Needlework
by DianaLecter
Summary: Three months after 'Hannibal.' - Follows canon. Clarice Starling is sent to China to pursue Dr. Lecter, but finds herself captured instead.. (Some parts may parallel the Thornbirds)
1. The Assignment

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Clarice Starling thought: _Officious little prick._

_ _

Sitting before her one-time superior, Clint Pearsall, she reveled in the way his threats no longer seemed valid, or even worth her consideration.Technically, she supposed he still ranked above her, but her common disregard to that assumption was provoked by the sense that he was no longer an intimidation.Today, he decided to overwork her with news, news, and more news on current troubles, as though hesitant to give her anything that valued her time.When he looked at her, she could see the doubt in his eyes, and furthermore noted he was beyond caring to be so easily read.

Of course, to say *he* solely looked at her differently was a laugh.Starling suddenly knew what it was like to be a circus attraction.A fully-fledged one this time.And she thought the aftermath of Evelda Drumgo was bad.

When Pearsall moved, it was with quickness, as though he anticipated needing to make an abrupt departure.This amused her, and while she didn't let that show, it provided entertaining thoughts whenever she should decide to step outside the office and into herself.

The distance behind her eyes must have been evident, for now he was looking at her with sharp acuteness, waiting for her to speak.Had he asked a question?She was beyond caring.

"Pardon me, sir?" she asked, tilting her head as though recently awakened.

"I asked if you were interested," came the solemn reply.He didn't even bother to sound strict, or exasperated at her lack of attention.

"That's not what you asked," Starling replied calmly, her tone low and conversational."Let's be honest, no one really cares if I'm interested anymore, do they, Mr. Pearsall?It seems I'm just the fallback girl around here."

Coolly, he arched an eyebrow, a shield of innocence coming over him, as though he had nothing to hide.Again, Starling refused to let herself feel agitation.Truthfully, she expected nothing more.After all, these were the people she allegedly despised, and who likewise returned the favor.

"Perhaps you'd be more than that if you could follow instructions."

Ouch.That hurt.

"What good does following instructions bring?I've done nothing that you or any agent wouldn't have done should the information been clarified at the time.I followed instinct instead of fact.That's what all this is about."

Pearsall's disagreement was evident and need not be vocalized.It was the same disapproving gaze everyone in the Bureau had issued her for the past three months.

"Do you realize how difficult getting you assigned to this has been for me?" he asked, tone lower now, no longer agent-to-agent, as though she had smacked him.

For a fleeting moment, Starling wished she had.

"Well, I'm sorry you wasted your time.I'm not interested."

The look she received blatantly disbelieved her.It made her clinch her fists tightly."If this is what I have to do to gain my respect and restoration, then frankly, Mr. Pearsall, I'd rather leave the Bureau," she said as an afterthought.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to see him again."

Ah, the truth at last.

"Starling, that's beside the point."

"I am entitled to reject the job, I'd think."

"The faster you learned the difference between your personal life and business, the better," Pearsall snapped, his temper finally nearing its fold.Starling sat back, neglecting to be threatened.Watching him was almost comical, the words he produced to scorn her having little or no effect.To actually put value into his attempts at coercion was an empty investment.It was to be expected, after the summer she had."That's what got you in this mess in the first place, if you don't remember.Ignoring a direct order and following your 'instinct,' as you call it, instead."

Tedious.Very tedious.Not to mention redundant.

"I don't care, Mr. Pearsall.There are plenty of other agents."

"Starling, people will *think* things if you don't take this job.Not just the public, but people in this building.Why doesn't she want to go after him again?Return to a celebrated case?Save her career?"Pearsall made a point to watch her carefully, as though he had the intelligence to read her mind through body language.

"Celebrated because of my involvement, because everyone is dying to know what he'd do to me now.I'd rather lose my job than subject myself to that all over again," Starling retorted in defiance, her eyes glistening dangerously."I've put myself before him on a silver platter twice now, and we both know the outcome.First Jack Crawford, and now you."

"Crawford can't protect you anymore," Pearsall argued, as though the fact were of some relevance to their discussion.

"Yeah.Death does that to people."

A sigh of defeat.

"Starling…" Pearsall said slowly, his eyes now on the carpet of the office floor, suddenly struck with an ailment that physically forbade him from looking at her."The truth of the matter is you have no choice.You're our best bet.He won't come out of hiding for anyone else."

"You sound remarkably like Paul Krendler."

Round two to her.Pearsall knew how she felt about the late Mr. Krendler, and his gaze shot daggers.Again, Starling felt little more than amusement.

In the three months that had passed since her last disastrous encounter with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Starling became accustomed to meetings such as these.They were routine in number and length, differing only in content.The first few weeks consisted of her continual career in the Bureau, something she still – despite everything – wished to maintain.If only to keep that one sliver of corruption from overtaking her, and try, despite the disposition of her colleagues, to do some good in this crazy world.

The words Dr. Lecter spoke to her at Union Station rang with more truth than she cared to admit.They were the only words she called upon for reflection.Everything else seemed surreal.

The truth in the matter was, Starling didn't care to chase Dr. Lecter again because she felt any attempt to apprehend him was doomed to fail.He worked himself masterfully out of any mess, with or without outside help.Watching him dejectedly leave Paul Krendler's kitchen almost made her pity him, simply for there was no peace with this man.

Starling felt she would live a rather fulfilled life regardless whether Dr. Lecter was caught.It wasn't so important to her.She had his reassurances that she was safe.Having lived ten years in blissful ignorance of his overseas actions weighed little on her conscience.

Of course, that man had been cut for meat.If she knew Dr. Lecter, there was a stronger reason.Her inward duty to protect the sheep charged her still, but with a realistic atmosphere.

According to him, it was *she* everyone should be concerned with.

Everyone.Yeah, right.

The last minutes of their time together had little or no affect on her.Confirmation of the tabloids on his part, perhaps, but her feelings remained strangely unchanged.Above and beyond everything else, she was Special Agent Clarice Starling, and would always be, despite the discontinuance of her occupation in the Bureau, should it come to that.

Starling didn't cling to morality anymore – that much, she saw, was fruitless.She still had her values and ethics, and whether or not she decided to refer to them, they would always remain with her.

She didn't want to face him again, because it was difficult seeing a man like that repossessed by something more powerful than he even seemed to understand.Their last meeting had closure to it, and she wanted nothing to jeopardize that.

Even her sustained career as a special agent.There were certain things she would die happy never knowing.

The lead the FBI had was irrefutable.A man in Beijing found trimmed for meat.An all too familiar calling card.Some speculators suggested it was a copycat demanding attention, but Starling knew better after seeing the photographs.Her confirmation seemed to be all the Bureau needed, as though she was suddenly an expert on Lecter murders.She safely blamed that as being the only known person to see him kill someone indisputably and live to tell about it. 

People were troubled by it more or less because no one knew rightfully why the doctor would flee to China.Starling knew, of course.It was inconspicuous, especially for him.The only place less likely for him to willfully travel would be somewhere in Africa.His resources never failed to impress her, even when they worked to her direct disadvantage.

It was several minutes before Pearsall found his voice and was slowly coaxed to the present."Listen, Starling…does your career mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does."

"Do you understand what catching Lecter would mean to the Bureau?"

She appeared to consider the question."Why, yes, Captain Obvious."

The stare she received calmed her, more or less because she didn't know where her outburst came from.Taking deep breaths, she forced herself to readjust.One more attempt, though she knew it was hopeless.If necessary, they would deny her sleep, food, water, anything to get her working on the case.Lock her up and throw away the key.Oh, the media would love this, as would be public.She saw the dreaded _Tattler _headlines looming in the future, the sneers from colleagues, the glazed eyes of Paul Krendler that haunted her at night.

Starling was sorry to say she regretted nothing of his death.Such fate never seemed more deserving.The initial shock of the moment had long worn off.Looking back at that night, she had to wonder why she choked at the display.It seemed more logical to laugh, or better yet, point and laugh.

("What if I made them scream apologies?")

Starling shuddered, her mouth forming for the last phase of her argument, the last before she would ultimately give in and accept this.Not because she wanted to.Personally, she didn't care to ever see Dr. Lecter again.But life seemed to disagree with her on many things.She didn't want reassignment the first time around, and thought the Bureau realized their mistake with the madness that followed.Putting her and Lecter together was willingly dumping gasoline over oneself and striking a match.

She didn't want to see him, see his gaze as she remembered it.Watch him as he was cuffed, undoubtedly to take several agents down with him before any arrest could be made.To see his eyes was to see the most personal part of herself, to see everything she ever shared with this man.The part of her that was best left forgotten.

And then the transfer back to the States.Locked in a compartment with him all the whole way because no other had the courage, or the oath never to be injured.Perhaps that's why they did this.

Who the hell was she kidding?That was *exactly* why they did this.To the eyes of everyone in the world, she was Lecter's weakness, the one thing he couldn't have.True romantics occasionally sent her hate-filled mail along with requests to contact Dr. Lecter for offers of marriage.

When she was bored, Starling sometimes entertained herself by answering those letters.Needless to say, most correspondents didn't bother with a continuous line of contact.

"Mr. Pearsall…" she said carefully, her tone soft, needing no emphasis."I don't care how long it takes, what it costs me…but you must understand that going after Lecter is the last thing I want to do.Yes, for personal reasons, but I've been personally involved since the Catherine Martin case.He knows me, and he knows my weaknesses.It's not smart putting us together.You'll have more success without me.Please."

"Yes, well," Pearsall said, his tone indicating blunt refusal.Starling felt her heart sink."We know his weakness, and it's obvious you're it.We wouldn't do this if it weren't absolutely necessary, but a Justice Department employee is dead now."

"So what?That's just a job.Does that make Paul Krendler any more important than, oh say, Benjamin Raspail?Or Dr. Chilton?How about Rinaldo Pazzi?Think of these people.You can't measure a man's importance because of his occupation," Starling stated, her eyes cold.

"Of course, but…" Pearsall trailed off, closing his eyes briefly as though pained.With a collected breath, he looked to her again, this time with resolution.She knew the conversation was over."Starling, you must push personal matters aside.This is for the good of the Bureau, of society altogether.What if our team goes and misses him because they don't know what to look for?We need you there."

Starling's gaze failed to falter, but steadily she omitted a defeated breath.When she could no longer stand it, she glanced down and nodded.The movement made her ache, as though physical agreement to this forewarned upcoming troubles."All right, Mr. Pearsall, all right.But I want you to understand…" Slowly rising to her feet, she averted her gaze upward once more,"what exactly you're asking of me.What this will cost me."

"Cost you?"

"My sanity.I thought I'd store what little I have saved from our last encounter for the holidays when everyone else gets their seasonal depression."

"You'll do fine." He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder, but it was more for his benefit.

Shaking her head, Starling tore away, grasping her things and making the retreat to her familiar post, wall adorned with Lecter memorabilia.They had added much since Krendler's demise, including a picture of the now-dead man with the top of his head grotesquely removed.

And then, in the corner, her picture, the doctored wound on her shoulder.

He saved her; there was no questioning that.In return, she attempted to stab him with a dinner knife and bash him over the head with a candlestick.None of that she regretted.For she was Clarice Starling – FBI, first, foremost, and always.

Still, a forbidden part of her was ashamedly grateful her attempts went so astray.She told him she would never deny him his life, which remained true.Now she was again in charge of his freedom, and wanted no reminder of the last time that occurred.

_We don't get what we wish for._

_ _

Here she was, about to embark on another manhunt.This time, they had a reliable lead, and no deranged – not to mention deformed – victim seeking revenge.Who knows, it might work.

_And tomorrow I'll win a million dollars, get the Nobel Prize, and be crowned the Queen of England._

_ _

A dry smile tugged at her lips.Hey, anything was possible.

_Even this?_

She had to hope.It was all she had left.

***


	2. The Coffee Shop

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

The coffee shop was quaint, one she could consider herself a regular customer.It wasn't the quality of the product – more or less the convenience of location.Starling's duplex was a comfortable jog from here.Though she wasn't in the habit of exercising in the city – surrounded by traffic, pollution, rude faces, and obscene gestures – getting coffee that exceeded the taste of homemade skills was appealing in any light.

But today, Starling wore a business suit, as she subconsciously avoided dresses.Instead of jogging to the door, she walked nicely after slipping out of her Mustang.She didn't know why she suggested this coffee shop; the name was with her when he called, requesting an audience.Perhaps it was because at the time she was thinking of what she might do with the rest of her day.

Inside, she didn't bother ordering.Her appetite had abandoned her.

It didn't take long identifying her party.Cordell Doemling, the late Mason Verger's private physician, waved her over.He had wisely chosen a secluded corner booth.Nearly pausing in stride, Starling took the time to ask herself why privacy was needed for this.Perhaps for she feared the nature of the conversation ahead.

She hoped this wouldn't last too long.There was still packing to do for the upcoming trip.

The same feeling of dread that she had ignored for the past three days crept up her spine once more, demanding to be acknowledged.Starling let out a breath, disconcerted to note she was trembling, and particularly not about this meeting.

Cordell started to stand when as she approached, but she motioned that wasn't necessary.Not feeling obligated to flash a smile, especially considering the nature of their last meeting; she let out a heavy breath and took her seat.The reaction of feeling her skin crawl was nearly natural, knowing how close this man was to Mason Verger – had been to Mason Verger.That demented freak of human being, and not simply regarding his face, who attempted to torture Dr. Lecter to death.

Starling shook her head as though trying to free herself of that thought.It proved a fruitless activity.

"Hello, Agent Starling."

"Good afternoon."

He smiled nicely as though they were old friends."How have you been?"

"I've been managing.And yourself?Find new work?"

Nodding, he took a sip of his coffee."I've decided to avoid wealthy benefactors, despite how good the pay is.I found work prescribing antibiotics to nursing home attendants.It's nice, and the patients aren't quite as…"

"Twisted?"

Hmm…that was Dr. Lecter's wording.

"Couldn't have put it better myself."

That made her smile until she remembered where the insight originated.Again, she shook her head, wanting desperately to forget that day.All that day.The longest day of her life.

"Well, Mr. Doemling, not to get directly to business, but I must ask…"Starling deliberately avoided addressing him as doctor, though she knew he had earned it through years of medical school.Searching for reaction, she found none.For some reason, the events he assisted in conspiracy against her made him less worthy of that honorable title.He sensed it, too, and offered no complaint.

"Yes, I can imagine you're busy.You've been reassigned to the case, as I understand."

Starling's eyes narrowed."How did you know that?"

"Word travels fast on the streets.Especially anything to do with Lecter."

He received a knowing look."You mean," she corrected, "anything concerning Lecter and me, right?"

"You said it; not me."

"In the end, who says what means little.We all know what you're really saying, don't we?"Starling sighed and averted her eyes to the window, as if dreaming her escape.Talking about what happened was easier than it seemed.It was thinking about what she was saying that was the difficult part."I suspect it's the opinion of everyone in this town."

"This town?You credit yourself short, Agent Starling," Cordell retorted."I heard in Ashville.That's quite a ways away."

"So I gather."Letting out another deep breath, she sat back, wishing he would hurry to the point of this meeting.Maybe she needed a cup of coffee after all.

As though he read her thoughts, he continued."I'll get to the point.You have your case to return to.I asked you here for a few reasons.Firstly, and this is an area of terrific concern…have the authorities any follow-ups on Mr. Verger's death?"

Starling frowned, tilting her head slightly, perceiving his gaze and trying to analyze it.After a minute, it was all too clear."Ahh…I see.It wasn't Dr. Lecter at all, was it?You pushed him into that pigpen."

"I wish I weren't so easily read."

"If it makes you feel any better, I never thought he had the time to do away with Mr. Verger and get out of there, given the hours the police have decided these events occurred within," Starling replied.That was the truth.Though she had never blatantly suspected Cordell of misdemeanor, it was rather rewarding to note she knew Dr. Lecter well enough to firstly assume he would never allow wild boars do his killings for him, and also that she had some grasp on the way things went that night."Don't worry, Mr. Doemling, I won't tell if you won't.Mr. Verger was not exactly my favorite interviewee.

"Tell me…did Dr. Lecter suggest you kill him?Did he ask for the blame?"

Evidently pained by the memory, the man nodded."Yes.I wonder why I listened…there was no point in killing him, Agent Starling.He wanted me to shoot Lecter…but Lecter was holding you.I have enough faith in my aim to have missed you, but that's not the point.Mason couldn't have easily killed me for violating his command, as you well know.I don't understand how I was so easily influenced…"

"I think you saw what he was capable of, even confined to that wheelchair," Starling offered helpfully."You saw people being consumed alive by wild boars, and knew it was because of your patient, and your part.Maybe you just didn't want to be apart of the madness anymore.Either way, Mr. Doemling, I wouldn't worry.Enough confusion happened that night to excuse any suspicion of your part in his death.The authorities seem content to believe Dr. Lecter was the cause."

A visible weight of burden vacated Cordell's eyes.He looked tormented still by committing the crime, but understandably relieved to avoid any legal troubles the death might bring.

It was perhaps the first time justice failed to appeal to Starling.Mason Verger was kook, a dangerous one at that.More so than Dr. Lecter, if that was possible.

It *was* possible.She had seen it.

She sighed.In her life, she had seen things no person should ever see, been though what no one should ever endure.Met people others had only seen in horror movies.Been there, most certainly done that.

_And this is my life, _she reflected sourly.

"The other thing on my mind, Agent Starling," Cordell continued, drawing her out of her reverie, "is ashamedly my curiosity."

Expressing no surprise at this confession, Starling nodded her acknowledgement briefly to the side."I see.What is it you want to know?"

"Why are you going after him?After what you went through?"His voice offered no softening quality to the question she had tormented herself over for the past three days.In a perverse way, she was glad this inquiry came from someone she could answer without fearing for her mental stability.

"It's the easiest way to get reinstated," she retorted simply, hating the way those words flowed off her tongue."Otherwise I'll be piled under paperwork, basically starting at square one…and…"

_Stop talking…why are you still talking?Good thing you skipped breakfast this morning._

_ _

"Listen, Agent Starling, I had my own theories on Lecter.Of course.We all did," Cordell said, leaning in as though the topic were vastly important."Mason used you to get to him, I know you already knew that, but…" He sighed.It was obvious this was something difficult to say."It was in his opinion that you were attractive to Lecter when you were distressed.That's why we went through all that trouble with Krendler.It made him happy, too.Part of the bargaining."

Letting out an exasperated breath, Starling took the time to lick her lips, as though tasting the query, considering.After a minute, she nodded, chuckling a bit as her eyes widened."Well, Mr. Doemling…I'd say Mason was right about that.Dr. Lecter certainly likes to see me distressed."

"No, no, that's not it at all, really, though I can imagine why you'd think so.That's what I wanted to tell you," Cordell quickly corrected her, an almost defensive look coming over him."If he wanted you distressed, I'd imagine he would have left you to those pigs, don't you think?Why bother at all?"

"To see how he might rub salt on the wound," Starling snickered, though her voice lacked conviction.In reality, she knew the truth as well as Cordell did, and that was what *really* frightened her.

He made the wise decision in avoiding comment on the obvious state of her feelings, nodding his excusal as he tried to think of a way to get back on topic.There was something he really wanted to say but was having trouble paving the path for.Almost tempted to ask him bluntly, Starling decided against it.To make it known that his discomfort was notably recognized would be rude.

_And we all know what happens to the rude._

_ _

This time, she didn't bother shaking her head.Some thoughts were unstoppable.

"I think…" he said, voice hesitant, evidently unsure of his wording, "that Mason suspected Dr. Lecter would do away with you, should he have the chance.He asked me if I thought Lecter wanted to fuck, kill, or eat you.He used those words, if you'll pardon the vulgarity.I don't mean to offend."

In reply, Starling's nose wrinkled.Though the reason seemed obvious, she wished she knew why. 

When she didn't answer, he let out a breath to continue."I told him most likely all three, though in what order I wavered to predict.The point is, Agent Starling, I knew differently when he failed to let you be consumed.Even behind the mask, I suppose I saw something significant.I've been in medicine long enough to recognize something when I see it."

"That's well and good," Starling said finally, likewise releasing a breath."But what relevance does it have?"

"I thought it might help you catch him."

That peaked her interest.Arching an eyebrow, she cocked her head to the side, suddenly coy."Oh?How might such information help us capture him?"Apart of her already knew, but confirmation was appreciated.

"The knowledge that he doesn't want to see you hurt, of course," Cordell replied casually."I'm not entirely clear how law enforcement works, but do take that into consideration."

She nodded to show her appreciation, but in actuality, he was saying little that wasn't already documented in Dr. Lecter's ever-growing case file."Thank you, Mr. Doemling, but I have known for some time that Dr. Lecter would not hurt me.He gave me his personal reassurances on that matter over a decade ago."

"It wasn't to insinuate that he would, Agent Starling.I known that, too, as does most of the public.You're quite popular with this matter, as you can well see.No, no I mean if you were somehow threatened, he might come out…allow himself to get clumsy as he was at Union Station."Cordell's head followed hers in direction, eyes imploring her for an answer, or acknowledgement of what he said.He spoke as though he had been there, listening to the words Dr. Lecter told her moments prior to his abduction.

What he said was very well true, and Starling knew it was an excellent strategy with which to tackle the problem.But something within her refused to take the idea into tangible light, to make it real. No…she felt, even with backup, that this was something she should do herself.Either they exclude her completely, or send her alone.If she wasn't there, seeing him in a position of pain – or Heaven forbid – even death would do little more than send her shivers, perhaps a little remorse.There, in person, she knew watching him die would make her ache, for reasons she didn't know, and if she did, refused to accept.With her in there, she knew he would not only refrain from hurting her, *he* would also evade injury, at least until he was out of her sight.

Cordell's input, though, was more useful than she allowed herself to admit.The things he said of the late Mason Verger and his plans concerning Dr. Lecter that went so astray.Now she had words to go along with the plotting, with what that twisted shell of a man had had in mind for her.It made her fists clinch.She found many things did these days.

"Agent Starling?"

Again, he had to coax her from her daydream."Yes?"

It was clear they were no longer discussing her upcoming mission, and for that she was glad.Further talk of Dr. Lecter's fate was destined to make her scream."Do you think I'm a bad person for what I did to Mason?He trusted me and I killed him."

Smiling kindly, or at least trying to, Starling shook her head."No…I don't.I believe you were dragged into his ploy prematurely, and were in too deep when you realized what his intentions were.Dr. Lecter offered you a way out, and you took it.Though against the fifth commandment, I don't think ridding the world of one madman at the expense of another really amounts to much, unless you're Catholic."

Her words soothed him visibly.Ten years peeled from his face as he offered an appreciative nod."Thank you, Agent Starling."

A moment passed before she felt it appropriate to speak again."If that is all, I do believe I'll be leaving."Without awaiting her reply, Starling rose, slinging her purse over her shoulder.Cordell stood as well to meet her.They shook hands.

"I was wondering…" Cordell said softly, so softly she feared he would ask her on a date.The words that followed were a relief."You said Dr. Lecter offered me a way out of something destructive, something I put time in and was in too deeply to make a good escape when I discovered it wasn't what I originally foresaw.Was that what you meant, to paraphrase?"

She nodded."Yes."

"Then Agent Starling, I must ask.What did he offer *you*?"

Her heart abruptly stopped and she felt her eyes widen on impulse.It took a rightful two or three seconds to find her voice, and she was discouraged to hear her instability."What?"

The man before her offered a sheepish smile."Well, like I said I've been in the medical industry long enough to note something, even if I'm not a psychologist.The Bureau's hurt you.It's obvious.I must wonder what escape Lecter presented to you before he left, to help you away from the damage.Tell me?"

It was clear this question was more for his benefit, further confirmation of her prior reassurances that he was not a despicable human being.But his words cut, cut deeply.She felt something sting.Not regret, but a feeling that equaled its sour taste.

She twitched her discomfort.

"Good day, Mr. Doemling," she said shortly.Not wanting him to counter with another question, she took an abrupt spin and hurried out of sight.

***


	3. The Instructions

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Arrival in Beijing was dull and anticlimactic.The crew Pearsall assigned her with watched her all through the flight, though she failed to gratify their stares with one of her own.Occasionally she heard a snide remark, but everything was kept quiet.Like she were a ticking time bomb.

_Tick tock tick tock tick tock._

_ _

Exasperatedly, Starling didn't bother shaking her head.It was obvious his voice would remain with her no matter what she did.Given their recent meeting, it was understandable though aggravating.She told Barney not too long ago that she thought of Dr. Lecter perhaps thirty seconds of every day.Damn, how she wished that were still applicable.After what she went through, she was lucky to go thirty seconds without flashing to his face.

A rush of hatred for Pearsall sped through her.How dare he send her on this escapade, knowing everything that he did?Knowing how this would affect her, had affected her, and would assuredly continue to affect her after this mission was over and they were all home again.

Still, this had its upsides.She was in charge.Wholly.Solely.Only._All the better to get you in trouble with, _she told herself in grim forewarning.Yes, that was true.If she failed this time, there was no reprise, no hope of reinstatement.Knowing what the Bureau was willing to do to its agents in order to get what it wanted nearly made that thought arrive in relief.Shedding her would hurt them, they knew, but she, like any agent, was replaceable.

But for now, she was in charge, and would not tolerate failure.

She wondered if Dr. Lecter was aware of her near proximity when she stepped off the plane, and realized he probably had to be.The sensation reminded her of the 'Beauty and the Beast' special Linda Hamilton used to star in, given their eerie connection.

The fact that the show was called 'Beauty and the Beast' didn't help much.

Starling didn't allow herself to take a good look around until she was situated at their resort of the next few days, a rather convenient place called the Lien Hotel.Unlike other inns that falsely advertised their handy-dandy location, this place actually suited their needs, being stationed in the more or less center of town.

At ten o'clock that morning, a small conference was held in ordinance with local authority, and the FBI and DEA office hopefuls that were still trying to root in Beijing.Starling made a point to note as few people as possible should get involved in this, for the more who knew, greater were the chances of failure.Despite the tightness of law enforcement, there was always that minority that ruined it for everyone else.Dr. Lecter would be alert to anything – always on his toes.They had to be cautious.

Starling stood at the head of a long table, waiting calmly for the last of her team to enter.There were a few representatives of Chinese law enforcement, but they had cooperated to remain as ambiguous in this project as possible.More or less used as backup, should the situation turn out of hand.It was clear they wanted to avoid another mess like Florence.

As the last of the group entered, she nodded for the doors to shut and raised her voice abruptly to be heard over the quiet bickering."Excuse me!Gentlemen…might I have your attention?" 

Her country-twanged accident rang loudly, emphasized to the point where it almost hurt her ears.

That bore another memory.

("And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed, pure West Virginian.")

On its own accord, the room fell silent, all eyes directed to her.

"Thank you.I think it's time we got down to business.First of all, I want a list of all luxury inns in the area, extravagant, lavish…comfortable room service, expensive to the wazoo.Our man isn't modest with money."Starling's eyes fell to her notepad before her, but it was blank.There was nothing to say that she didn't have memorized.It almost made her sick to her stomach."Next, surveillance on all museums, antique stores, wine sales.The full kitten caboodle."

There were nods, though Starling sensed it hadn't registered.If she were to go over a list of everything they should watch, they might be here for a while.How could she word this efficiently without leaving anything out?Her mind traveled back a few months, and suddenly she was in the presence of the late Paul Krendler, who told her he believed Dr. Lecter to be 'queer' because of his interest in 'artsy fartsy' stuff.Avoiding the grimace that memory provoked, she shook her head subconsciously, wondering how to state the same to these men without lowering herself to quote such a pompous ass.

"Basically, gentlemen, anything and everything that would interest the Brothers Crane, I want watched.Understood?"

A room full of nods.No one vocally replied, but their enlightened faces told her everything she needed to know.She would have to remember to send the President of NBC a thank-you note.

_Why, Clarice, you almost sounded professional._

Anyone closely observing her might note her nose wrinkled a bit as a telltale sign of disgust, but they were too busy processing her orders."If any unusual or suspicious action is reported, or if you should see the Good Doctor himself…now, listen gentlemen, this is *very* important."

All activity simultaneously stopped once more.Every pair of eyes in the room fell on her.

"No one is to go after the Doctor except me.To do so is to endanger your lives, and I'm sure you'll be missed back in the States.If you corner him, you're in for a world of trouble.He killed three policemen while in custody.Free, out in the open where he's had time to memorize the terrain…you are to take *no* chances."Starling sighed, turning briefly from the faces of the men.Her decision on the matter was only part for their benefit.While it remained true that she wanted this to go down quietly, she also wanted to evade the chance of seeing Dr. Lecter wounded or dead.Three months before, she told him she would never deny him his life.If he were to lose it under her command, she didn't know if she could ever forgive herself.

And *that* thought shook her to her very core.

"Now, should you see him, you are to report it to me immediately.Make sure he doesn't get out of your sight," Starling continued a minute later, letting out an exhausted breath.This speech was difficult to give, knowing every face in this room was aware of her prior relationship with the fugitive, and that it very well appeared she was setting it up to have some more private time.The thought made her nauseous, either at their assumptions or something else…

Despite what they might think of her, Starling refused to let that alter her decision.To let them go after Dr. Lecter was to endanger both their lives and his.She couldn't allow that, though she was having trouble weighing which side of the equation she preferred to lose first.

Something told her she didn't want to know.These men were just faces, people she had never seen before and had no intention of seeing again.She *knew* Dr. Lecter.

Though despite the shadows of sneers and snickers, Starling also felt a wave of appreciation.No one in here wanted to go after Hannibal the Cannibal.Stories of such foolishness had undoubtedly reached them.The brave Chief Inspector Rinaldo Pazzi who lost his life in the midst of the near-capture, due to his assumption he knew the system would prevail, and three men could easily bring down one.

Poor unfortunate soul.Oh well.She warned him.

"Is that perfectly understood?" Starling demanded, eyes ablaze with the utmost seriousness.

This time, a few 'yes's' were heard.

"Thank you," she replied with a conclusive breath, though everyone in the room heard the forewarning of an epilogue.Rummaging through her papers, she found her query and raised it to eye level.It was a photograph.

"This is Reuben T. Tow, last place of employment was _Banca Commerciale Italiana_ - Beijing Rep. An Italian establishment here in town.We know that Dr. Lecter had several overseas bank accounts, but whether this man's death is related to that, we are still investigating.I want you to memorize this picture.Hey!Gentlemen!"Her eyes fell on a few faces in the back that refused to look at the photo.It wasn't pretty sight, she knew, but these days, Starling was indifferent to death.When she first glanced at it, she barely flickered an eyebrow in surprise, much less disgust.After everything she had seen, done, and experienced, graphic violence had as much affect on her as a splattered bug on a windshield.

It occurred to Starling that she should be discouraged at such knowledge that she had allowed herself to grow accustomed to this, but at this stage in life, it came as little surprise.

The picture was nothing short of grotesque.Body visibly mutilated, incision lines where Dr. Lecter removed his thymus and liver for later consumption.

When Starling realized she was acting no better than Dr. Chilton, she swallowed slowly and decided to continue, forcing that disturbing thought away.

"This man's family deserves closure."Her eyes skimmed over the room and randomly picked a name out, making the man jump as she called it."Agent Kratt, I want you to look for a possible connection with any of Mr. Tow's clients and the areas I already mentioned.Credit card receipts, withdraws of a substantial kind, anything that suggests extremely good taste." She paused then, wondering if she added that last line out of her general bias, or because of its truth.Either way, no one seemed to notice."Dr. Lecter will also want to maintain the 'doctor' image, and his name may very well be an anagram.Keep that in mind."

Starling adjourned the meeting shortly, sighing as she moved to a seat.Once alone, she allowed her head to collapse into waiting arms, overwhelmed with fatigue.But she couldn't rest, she knew, she had to maintain some level of alertness, should something arise.

A flash.She was ten years younger again, standing before Stacy Hubka, questioning her on the disappearance of Fredricka Bimmel.

("Is that a pretty good job, FBI agent? You get to travel around and stuff? I mean, better places then this?")

Sighing, Starling turned to a shield of fresh air, cheek reclined on propped arms."It would be," she answered, "if you got to travel for the sake of going somewhere you actually wanted to be…and you weren't looking for a crazed cannibalistic murderer, who just so happens to—"

Jerking herself up, she forced herself to silence, knowing that speaking to oneself was just a step closer to the inevitable full mental breakdown.Starling sighed and pushed herself away from the table, hesitated, then finally stood.Walking at a comfortable pace, she rejoined the others outside, pleased to note they were getting started on the multiple tasks, and decided to get busy.She decided to start with a few phone calls.

***

"Agent Starling?"

Starling looked up, surprised at the sound of her name.A few hours had passed since the informational meeting, resulting in a relatively quiet evening.It was nearly five o'clock, and the signs of the time change were beginning to wear on her.Nevertheless, she knew she couldn't sleep.The night promised tossing and turning, followed by immediate sleepiness when she gave into the urge to sit up, thence to follow the cycle until dawn.

Coffee became essentially important.

The man in the doorway waited patiently to be acknowledged.

"Yes, come in, Agent Witbroth," she said a minute later, placing her pen down and reclining comfortably in the chair.Earlier that day, she opted to return to the meeting room, accompanied by her laptop and several stacks of reports, as well as her trustworthy cell phone.It was nice to have an open area to work in, a place that wasn't a basement and did not contain an overly illustrated Hannibal Wall.

"We haven't found much.I don't think this guy uses credit cards—"

Starling smiled a bit."I don't think so, either, but it was worth investigating.Anything else?"

"Yeah…you didn't let me finish.There is one special instance, though, that I think warrantees your opinion."He approached."There *was* a credit card purchase.Tomorrow night's presentation of the Kunqu Opera.The buyer is a client of Reuben T. Tow, or was, I should say."

Lurching forward, Starling's eyes widened with intensity.Though she wasn't sure if Dr. Lecter would enjoy a Chinese opera, it seemed entirely possible that he would go just for the sake of appreciating the cultural diversion.Her mind was made up already, before she could be fed any more information.Pulse racing for the thrill of the hunt; she jumped up, collecting her things.

"What was the buyer's name?" she demanded, eyes focused on her filling arms.

"Here's the clincher," replied her informant with a smile."Dr. Haller Shepard."

Starling stared at him blankly for a minute, vaguely aware of her heart pounding ferociously."Any hotels register him as a guest?Have you checked?"

"Yes, of course we checked," Witbroth replied defensively."Nothing even similar to that name came up."

"Hmm…" Starling considered, setting her things down once more as the frenzy calmed.Pursing her lips, she took a few paces away from him in thought."Then he has himself a permanent residence here…he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon."She turned around sharply."Investigate realty…see if any owners have mysteriously disappeared.Be especially particular of large estates, or houses in good neighborhoods.Let's say…a fifty mile radius of the city?"

"Sure.I'll get right on it."

"Okay.Good.And get me a ticket to that opera."

He nodded, moving toward the door."How many?"

"Just one."

Pause.Blank stare.

"If anyone else goes, he'll know it immediately," Starling excused, feeling no need to justify her decision, but knew an explanation was appreciated."If I go alone, he'll want to talk to me, or so I'm hoping."

The blank stare intensified."Are you so confident that you will find him?It'll be crowded."

"Are you so insecure to suggest that I *can't* find him?After all, I have had a run-in or two with him in the past.If I don't find him, he'll find me."Starling's eyes reflected her conviction, and her unquestionable knowledge.

At once, Witbroth nodded, a flash of understanding coming over him.He recognized the dangerous ground on which he treaded."All right, Agent Starling.One ticket it is, then.I'll get everything read ASAP."

Nodding, Starling didn't look at him as he left.Instead, she turned her attention to her things, scattered on the desk.Collecting them once more, she heaved a sigh and started for the door.There was no point in working late now.They had all the leads they were going to get.Besides, she needed to rest up for tomorrow evening.

That thought made her pulse race.She closed the door behind her, omitting a quivering breath.A horrible sense of dread overtook her, dread…and something else.

She didn't want to think about that.Couldn't afford to, not now.Not when there was a job to do.

***


	4. The Opera

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

The idea of spending a day searching for the appropriate attire to wear to an opera, of all things, was not attractive.She had work to do, though it seemed everything had postponed itself for the cause of the events looming ahead.However, she knew shopping had to intertwine with this day's festivities, as apart of her job.It would look conspicuous attending an opera in jeans and a tank top.

It had to be long enough to conceal her firearms, preferably with a jacket that fit to the waist.She intended to style her hair in a manner that would cover the earpieces she planned on wearing to maintain contact with the backup squad.Though she knew Dr. Lecter would immediately recognize the smell of gunpowder as well as her extended efforts to preserve communication for those 'crafting his doom,' anyone else wouldn't give her a second glance.

Starling had no delusions of surprising Dr. Lecter.Something told her he was awaiting her arrival, probably had since killing Reuben Tow.

Shopping was quaint.She wasn't used to such indulgence, but since it was going on the company credit card, she decided to let herself go.The look she foretold on Pearsall's face amused her, as well as the explanation that was perfectly plausible, even a little expected.

She wanted nothing provocative, but knew in the end it was inevitable.Settling for a long burgundy dress, sleeveless, with a suitable jacket, she made the similar purchase of matching shoes and a handbag.There was a slit in the gown that would hide a backup weapon, and she planned on harboring a third in her purse, as well as bullets and a set of handcuffs.

The thought of using the cuffs made her shiver.Somehow, in some mystical allusion of the mind, she hoped to avoid using them tonight.

Briefly, Starling wondered how his injury was, if it had healed accordingly.In the end, she supposed, it amounted to little.At least they still had both hands – even if his left was a little scathed. 

When she arrived at the hotel, she only had two hours to prepare.The opera didn't start until eight o'clock, but Starling wanted to arrive early, alert security of the trouble that might go down, as well ask their assistance in keeping an eye open.However, she intended to keep Dr. Lecter's an identity a secret.No one need know who she was hunting, just enough to spot him when he arrived.

There were other things, too.Starling knew the afterward of the opera would be difficult to follow-up in an evening dress.She had a set of regular clothes as well as FBI coveralls to get her through the arrest.Pressing her body to Dr. Lecter in revealing clothing would do little good for either of them.

Though she was sure he wouldn't mind.

Starling shook her head as she stepped into her hotel room.There were only a few hours, and thoughts like that would assist little in preparations.Tonight was going to be easy for no one.Somehow, between now and then, she had to get into the mindset that she was going after the scum of the earth, someone no better than Jame Gumb or Evelda Drumgo.Anyone but Dr. Lecter.

In defiance, her mind flashed to their last few minutes together, the kind but sad way he smiled at her.There were things she saw in his eyes, things she shouldn't have seen, things she wanted to forget.

When she flicked on the light, Starling froze.Sitting on her bed, laid out nicely for her, was the dress Dr. Lecter put her in the night of Paul Krendler's death.At first, she feared the worst, thinking perhaps somehow the target of her search had infiltrated and set this out for her tonight.It took a few minutes to process how foolish that was.The only people that knew she was going to the opera were those on her command.This dress was supposed to be in Washington, turned in like everything else Dr. Lecter gave her, though there was little point to that.Starling opted not to save it, knowing how others would react.What little rumors would spring to existence, what would be added to those already in active circulation.

A shadow crossed her eyes.She set her newly purchased outfit over a chair, angrily grasping the dress and marching out into the hallway.

Raising her voice to assuredly be heard, she screamed: "Gentlemen!Outside!Now!"

Slowly, the members of her team emerged from their separate rooms, looking from her to the dress, then to her again.It was easily recognized, as everyone had seen photos of her, taken both by the media and specialists within the Bureau.She examined the crowd quickly, waiting for a look of chagrin.

"Who is responsible for this?" she demanded."Who?!"

Nothing at first.A mocking silence.Starling felt a rush of panic.Perhaps this *was* the tidings of the Good Doctor.Perhaps he wanted to see her wearing something given by him on her own accord, without being subjected to morphine and dressed while she was unconscious.

But that thought was ridiculous.She would get nowhere if she were constantly paranoid.

"Someone better come clean here," Starling threatened through gritted teeth."Cause if you don't, and I find out who you are…you don't want to see what—"

"Agent Starling?" A timid voice arose from the group.Slowly, one she didn't know by name stepped forward."Sorry.Really sorry."

Her gaze did not reflect compassion, and she didn't offer it in her voice."Pack up.You're going home."

The face before her blinked his surprise, opened his mouth to protest, then likewise knew it was useless.Nodding dejectedly, he turned and blended back into the crowd.Starling didn't look at him.Instead, she turned her attention to the others, eyes afire.

"Anyone else who decides to get cute, you're in for a world of trouble.Am I understood?"

Solemn nods, several astonished stares.No one said a word as they returned to their rooms.Starling stood in the silence of the hall for a minute, overcome with anger and confusion.No matter what, there would always be some smartass like Paul Krendler to remind her of her 'claim to fame.'

Sighing, she reentered her room and closed the door.Despite everything, she had to get ready.Tonight was the night.

***

Starling let out a quivering breath as she stepped inside the Beijing Opera House, wishing briefly she belonged to a religion.Tonight's events were going to be difficult enough to execute; it would be of some comfort to know that someone was praying for her.

At least for the thought, if not the institution.

A few people evidently shared her desire of early arrival.Luckily, none of them bore Dr. Lecter's face.Starling didn't realize how nervous she was until she approached the security guard, waving her badge.This was it.After she told him what to look for, there was no going back.

He must have thought it bizarre: a woman in a lovely dress, carrying a bag at her side as well as a matching purse, waving her identification in the air.The idea that the attempted arrest was only a few hours away made her glad she declined coffee that morning.Starling cursed herself for being so jumpy.If she was this unnerved now, how did she expect to carry out tonight?

_You will, _she told herself unconvincingly._You'll do exactly what you're supposed to do, then you and the boys can get the hell out of here._

_ _

"Good evening, Officer…" Starling felt a rush of embarrassment her lack of experience in foreign handlings, but knew no other way to approach.

The man gazed back at her, glancing uncertainly to her badge before replying."Zheng," he said in a thick accent.Starling cursed her luck.It was bad enough trying to explain the situation, but it would be horribly embarrassing if she asked him to repeat himself.

"Officer Zheng.I'm Special Agent Clarice Starling with the American FBI.I'm here to tell you we might be making an arrest of an attendant here at the opera."She breathed out a low breath.

What she received was little more than a confused stare."Here?Tonight?" the man replied, clearly in disbelief.

"Yes.He's a very dangerous man, Officer.I don't want you or any of your crew to get involved, but I thought it was appropriate that you're aware of what's going on."Refusing to let herself skip a beat, she reached into her bag and withdrew a photograph of Dr. Lecter, the same she had spent hours studying the last time she was given this assignment.

Officer Zheng frowned as he observed the name aside the photo, and she bit down on her lip hard enough to coax blood, hating herself that moment.It was never her intention for them to know exactly whom they were dealing with.The less this man knew, the happier he would be.

"Hannibal Lecter?" he questioned, the name sounding horribly distorted when spoken with that accent.In spite of herself, Starling almost barked a laugh.Maybe they weren't familiar with Dr. Lecter here.She might just luck out.

No.A wave of recollection swept over the officer.He knew exactly who Hannibal Lecter was.After all, the last Lecter-news was only three months in the past, and even then, the media refused to let the story die.

"Hannibal Lecter…here, tonight?"

"We think so.We don't have hard-core evidence."This was only half true.While there was no actual confirmation that Dr. Haller Shepard was indeed their man, Starling knew it was him.It had to be.Her conviction on the matter convinced everyone else.They knew not to question her."Listen, Officer, if you see him, alert me immediately.Don't try to go after him yourself."

There was a chuckle in reply."Do not worry, Agent Starling.Have no desire to be…" He trailed off, as though searching for the right word.She could tell he found it when his eyebrows lifted spontaneously, finding the pun of a bad joke."Eaten."

Starling forced herself to a small smile."Yes, very good.I will not be seated with the other guests.You'll be able to find me, should you see him."With that, she raised her bag hand slightly, successfully averting his attention."If it is all right with you, I'd like to store this in the ladies room.Would you oblige in writing me an 'Out of Order' sign for one of the stalls?"

Considering briefly, Zheng evidently decided it was all right."Yes.Be with you in a minute."

Once she was alone again, Starling let out another quivering breath.Attendants were slowly mounting inward, but none of them gave her a second glance.She knew if she missed Dr. Lecter upon arrival, something she highly doubted, that she would catch him looking at her, or at least pausing to catch a whiff of her familiar scent before he seated.

Zheng returned in time, a common and rather tasteless warning to lavatory users in both Chinese and English on a sheet of off-white paper.A whimsical piece of tape clung to it lopsidedly. Apparently not wanting to venture into the forbidden territory of the ladies room, he handed it to her and smiled sheepishly."There you go."

Doing her best to offer a sincere smile, Starling nodded."Thank you, Officer Zheng."

When she was safely out of sight, and when the rather clueless officer's back was turned, the man claiming to be Dr. Haller Shepard walked in briskly, smiled nicely at the usherette, and took his seat.

***

In the duration of the first act, Starling learned more than she cared to about the Kunqu Opera.She was too nervous to pay attention to the performance, too afraid of what she might see if she skimmed the audience, against all rationality.So, she succumbed to reading the program over and over, as though it was a favorite book she couldn't put down.

Without looking, she felt his eyes on her.

For a while, she debated why she elected to wear fancy clothing in the first place.If she intended to change, why bother at all?Well, it was obvious.She didn't want to make a scene, or distract too much attention to herself with outlandish attire. That gave her nice food-for-thought for a while, but eventually, she knew she had to risk a glance.

Thankfully, her perception wasn't as keen as Dr. Lecter's.After she yielded to the first look and found nothing, bravado surged through her.She went as far as a second, third, even fourth scan.Nothing.No, she suspected she would have to wait until the intermission.

That thought was poison.The instant it occurred to her, the curtains closed and signified the end of the first half.Starling's head pounded, suddenly in need of a drink.She took a minute to contact her backup and report nothing significant as of now; though she was in good spirits he was near.Still, no one questioned her judgment.

Starling positioned herself in the lobby, glancing at the couples, mainly Chinese, who were talking amongst themselves about the fantastic first part and their eagerness to get to the second, regardless if they had seen the opera a thousand times.

Picking Dr. Lecter out of this bunch should've been easier.Starling felt a sinking sensation after a few minutes, thinking perhaps her raw instinct led her to a dead end.Of course, he might be waiting in the main hall for the performance to resume.

No.A negative shake of the head from the reliable Officer Zheng took that from her.Sighing, Starling glanced over the entourage once more; her desire to prove she was right to assume he was here now overriding anxiety.The gut feeling was unavoidable, and had never failed her in the past.

Then Starling looked up and felt her blood run cold.

Standing comfortably at the other end of the hall was the object of her search, a wine glass in hand.His eyes were fixated on her.Unlike anyone in the brink of normality that might look away once caught staring, Dr. Lecter's gaze seemed only to intensify.

Even from here, Starling read that he was unsurprised at her presence.A wave of self-congratulation overcame her.It was ruined only with the remembrance of her duties, and again, she found herself apprehensive.

Dr. Lecter's face was unreadable, though she could feel his eyes moving over her slowly.It caused her breath to catch, but she couldn't identify why.

As the people began the slowly move back into the auditorium, it occurred to her that he might use this time to make his escape, and that she should be ready.Starling started for the .45 attached to her leg under the dress, but stopped as she watched him finish his drink, tip the waiter, and return with the rest of the guests.

He did not look at her as he left.

Immediately, Starling bolted to see where he was seated, pushing through the remaining crowd and being careful not to trip over her heels.Her eyes caught his once more as he made idle chitchat with the gentlemen next to him.Though he watched her, his mouth was still in full motion.He broke to smile and glance back to his conversationalist before sitting.

Hurriedly, Starling motioned for Officer Zheng, who was chatting with an usherette.As soon as he saw her, his eyes widened in recognition and he dismissed himself.

Nearly out of breath simply by rushing across the lobby, Zheng nodded in question, not needing to ask.

Starling offered a nod in return, pointing to the audience."There, row twenty four, sixteen seats in.See him?" 

It wasn't hard to pick him out now.Notably the only non-Asian in attendance.She wondered how she missed him before.

"Yes, yes, Agent Starling, I see."

"Watch him.I'm going to have to go change.Don't make any attempt to approach him, or have anyone else approach him.Should he move, you are to come get me immediately.Don't worry, I'm not that modest," Starling ordered roughly.These orders were in vain.Dr. Lecter was situated and didn't intend on making an exit until viewing the performance in its entirety.

Zheng gave her a mortified look."But—"

"Can I trust you to do that?" she demanded, patience slipping.Though the opera still had an hour or so, she was acutely aware of time.She wanted to be the epitome of preparation when presented with the last few minutes of this escapade.

The man's concerns were visible; he didn't want to catch her indisposed.However, the urgency in her voice must have convinced him of the importance, and furthermore, that she didn't care.With a defeated nod, he conceded.

"Thank you," she offered in reply, spinning to an abrupt about-face and rushing for the ladies room.

When she emerged, dressed casually, she took a vain minute to enjoy the sensation normality brought.It was nice, not having to fret about tripping over three-inch heels.A negative shake of the head from Zheng confirmed that Dr. Lecter remained seated where she last saw him.Still reveling in the comfort of her casual attire, Starling forced herself to relax.

It seemed only a few minutes had passed when the audience erupted, cheering and clapping in a terrific standing ovation.Starling forced herself upright.Considering, she pursed her lips, deciding it was best to await him outside.Hopefully this would attract less attention.

So she paced outdoors and waited.Five minutes turned to ten, then to twenty.By the time she was convinced everyone had retired and gone home, she fretted having missed him on a loop of bad judgment.

She felt like kicking herself.

Then, as briskly as she had ever seen a person move, Dr. Lecter emerged on the other side of the entrance, not passing her glance, though visibly alerted to her presence.Starling immediately withdrew her gun, not considering the weight of her actions.In a hoarse voice, she called: "Dr. Lecter!Freeze!"

No move to comply.Instead, he turned abruptly in the other direction; knowing as well as she did that she wouldn't shoot.Shoot to kill, anyway.But he was covered in shadows now, and to risk a shot at his leg was to put too much faith in her aim.

Or so she told herself.

Moving without realizing it, Starling took off after him.By the time she caught up, it was too late.He was stored in the safety of his car, driving quickly without speeding.In the relatively condensed traffic, a getaway was not entirely implausible.

But Starling was not focused on that.Instead, she climbed into the rental car she managed for the evening, as though she had anticipated that it would end in a chase rather than a peaceful arrest. 

But she hadn't.And for that, she bit her tongue to keep the self-degradation from spitting out.After all, nothing with this man ever happened the way it was supposed to.

Now they were both on the road.Starling could still see his car, racing at full speed, avoiding the minor traffic and instead turning to the back roads.She wondered if he trusted his sense of geography enough to lead her on a wild goose chase, and likewise realized how silly it was to doubt.After all, Dr. Lecter had three months to memorize the city, and notably put good use to his time.

Keeping her eye on the road, Starling referred to the headset, still safely covered by her festive hairdo, and hurriedly contacted her backup squad.

"I'm currently in pursuit of a black Sudan, license plate number unknown, heading north on Dong San Huan South Road, Chao Yang District.Request assistance immediately."

In the last of her message, a roar of static caught her voice and cut the transmission through.After her failed attempts to reestablish, Starling, beyond irritation, freed herself of the wiring.She hoped they received enough of her request to make good of it.Otherwise, it was just them.

Herself and Dr. Lecter.

Just like old times.

"Jesus!" she cursed to herself."Please be on your way…"

And the chase continued.

***


	5. Capture

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Dr. Lecter had a visible lead, but she hardly let that discourage her.The car she was provided with was living up to its title as a rental, and she feared several times it would abruptly break down.However, it remained in motion and that was all that mattered.As long as she could see his car, which she was sure was his motive; she failed to scream her frustration.

When Dr. Lecter pulled into the parking lot a dark building, Starling's eyes narrowed.It seemed no matter where she went; there was always an abandoned warehouse to investigate.

As she pulled alongside his car and parked – his lead gratifying him time to get out and enter the building before she could catch up – Starling considered that he had this planned from the beginning, knowing she would ultimately find him.Thinking back to the opera, she verified that she saw him only because he let her, and despite the location of their reencounter, she would not be here unless he wanted it so.

That thought was frightening.Here she was, complying to this man's plans, having no choice but to follow, even if her murderous query was located in the stereotypical deserted storehouse.

Starling double-checked her backup weapons and ammunition.Everything was perfectly intact.She fit her car keys and the handcuffs into the front pockets of her jacket, the sense of dread returning. Tortured thoughts raced through her mind, and she knew that if it came down to it, shooting Dr. Lecter was a requirement of her career, not an option that she could willfully reject.However, she likewise knew that she was just as likely to shoot herself first.This man was unlike any fugitive she had chased before, and she knew it, despite all her attempts to convince herself otherwise.He wouldn't kill her as those in the past would.Starling preferred to think that everyone that died at her hand was justifiable only in the sense that they would do no different to her, given the opportunity.With that safety out of the way, proceeding was very difficult.

And the entire reason she was here alone was because she requested so.She requested it to assure herself that Dr. Lecter would go in unharmed.That remained as true now as it had then.

But did *he* know that?Probably.Perhaps she could convince him otherwise.She had fooled him with the hope of Plum Island.Was it possible to pull the same trick twice?

She had to hope.

Before exiting the vehicle, Starling again attempted contact with the backup squad.A breath of relief shuddered through her as connection was made.She issued her location as well as her continued plans, only with minimal protest from the other end.There was no need to repeat her speech that she knew what she was doing.They had bought that already.

The hard part was convincing herself.

As Starling opened the door, hand steady on her .45, she had the reassurance that the other officers would arrive within ten to fifteen minutes.Dr. Lecter took enough twists and turns to confuse a native of this town.With the assistance of local authority, she would have the backing she needed soon.

Though she knew initially Dr. Lecter wasn't going anywhere, she had to be sure he wouldn't lead her inside only to sneak away when it was convenient.Lowering her gun to the front tire of his Sudan, she flinched a bit and fired.

Feeling the need to double check once more, Starling's hand crept into the front pockets of her jacket.Her keys rattled alongside the handcuffs in faint reassurance.Sighing, she glanced to the entrance, considering the minutes to follow with ever-growing trepidation.

But she couldn't turn back.This was her job.Right now, a burger flipper at McDonalds rivaled for the more attractive occupation.

Starling shuddered as she entered, engulfed with darkness.She was surprised but pleased when her eyes complied to adjust quickly.Each step she took betrayed her location.If Dr. Lecter was moving, it was decidedly unheard.Of course, she didn't expect him to make noise, unless he wanted his position revealed.That would be too easy.

When she realized she wasn't going to surprise anybody, she opted to try to talk reason into him.It failed before at Union Station, but that was when bounty hunters were her competition.Here, safely away from demented revenge-bent former victims, she convinced herself it might work.

Might.

Hah.

Still, she heard herself raise her voice, and likewise felt the expected idiocy that followed."Dr. Lecter!The authorities will be here any minute.There's no way out.Turn yourself in, and I promise no harm will come to you."

The redundancy of her words made her sick to her stomach.Again, she was presented with an unwanted memory.

("Will you stay with me in my prison cell and hold my hand?We could have some fun…")

Her voice rang in mocking echo for a few seconds before dying in the darkness.Letting out a deep breath, she decided against following it up immediately.Allow him time to consider, reciprocate, Heaven-forbid, turn himself in.

_Turn himself in?Psh.Yeah right._

_ _

A few minutes of silence followed.Starling paused in stride to listen.Nothing.Not even the expected creaks of an older building, regardless of the number of occupants.It was as though she were alone, but given the disposition of his vehicle; she knew it could not be so.

She omitted a defeated breath, toyed with the idea of speaking again, and decided against it.A few more minutes.Pushing herself to the wall, Starling was aware of the heaviness of her breaths, the weary signs of fatigue.

Apart of her almost expected to wake suddenly, to find herself at the start of this day instead of the end of it.At that moment, it seemed entirely possible.Having had her share of similar nightmares the night before, she came to the point to expect anything.

But in her gut, Starling knew this was cold reality.She was really here, lurking in the dark of a warehouse, searching for a cannibalistic serial killer whose silence would put any mime to shame.As the seconds ticked by, she noted dryly that her breaths were escalating in anxiety.

An instinctive motion forewarned the end to this game.Starling tensed slightly, aware every hair on her arm was sticking up, a shiver shot down her spine, though the warehouse climate included rather companionable warmth.Slowly, she crossed to a separate hallway, biting her lip.This was perhaps darker than the others she had ventured through, and the warmth not as comfortable.

She avoided cursing herself for forgetting a flashlight.Whatever she could have done to change the outcome of this evening was in the past, and she refused to dwell on what couldn't be changed. 

Still, a flashlight would be nice.

Steadying her breathing, as well as blind aim, Starling decided to attempt at starting a line of conversation once more.It couldn't hurt anything.She paused a minute to listen for approaching sirens, but the silence of the warehouse betrayed nothing that sounded outside its walls.

They better get here soon.She didn't know how much longer she could take this.

Turning her eyes back to the dark hall, she elevated her chin slightly, as if the motion would cause her voice to echo with more reliability."Dr. Lecter!"For the minute, she decided against following the initial call of his title with more idle threats. She knew if she couldn't stir him from his hiding place with simply his name, threatening his freedom would be of little use.

"Dr. Lecter!"

Silence.

"Dr. Lecter…?"

Silence.

"Doctor—"

The events that followed occurred too rapidly for Starling to register at first.The sensation of being dragged off her feet commenced a dizzy spell…then the room was spinning.In a fury of quick movements, she felt her gun arm twist behind her back as a hand pried her trousers open and retrieved her backup weapon, never relocated from her frantic changing into occupational attire at the opera house.Feeling warm flesh against her slippery skin made her shudder.At once, she was alerted to all senses with painful extremity.

She smelled his cologne, notably sweeter with his own perspiration, though it seemed he had little reason to sweat.The breath at her ear reflected the wine he consumed at the opera.Though his hand had retracted, once the spare firearm was claimed, her skin prickled with friction.He said nothing, still, but she could distinctly hear his amusement, his excitement.

They remained immobile for a few only seconds, and the tenderness she expected to receive was not granted.Instead, the .45 pressed now to her spine was twisted furiously from her, and she found herself unarmed.

Once vulnerable, Dr. Lecter seemed content.In one motion, he spun her to face him.For the second time that evening, she felt his eyes moving over her.

The impression was brief.Starling had time to fight, but the thought failed to occur to her.She was next aware of Dr. Lecter's wrist grasping hers, and she was dragged roughly to him, back now pressed to his chest.In a flash, something cold and metallic rested at her abdomen, a hand coming to her mouth as he rolled them against the wall.

"Well, well, well…" he said finally, voice low and menacing.For the first time in the many years of their prolonged acquaintance, Starling allowed herself to feel a shiver of fear.She hoped it was in vain."You do realize there are more conventional methods of obtaining my attention, don't you, Special Agent Starling?Tell me truthfully."

In response, Starling squirmed in a futile attempt to break free, but stilled once again as she Harpy at her belly pressed forward with the shadow of warning.

"Now, now," Dr. Lecter scolded softly."None of that.I wouldn't want to be forced to take extreme measures.I'm sure you can agree.Now then, can I trust you not to make a ruckus?There are some things I'd like to know before we proceed.Nod if you can."

A bolt of hatred, genuine hatred, sped through her.Starling wondered if she should attempt to bite at the hand covering her mouth, but she decided the better of it.Instead, she felt herself nod, best to her ability.There was an approving rumble against her back, and she sensed the bottom drop on the tension."Good girl."

Her mouth was free again.A thousand things sprung to mind, amidst the usual threats and what-have-you of law enforcement.However, she felt it best to remain silent until he asked his questions.After all, she was in no place to agitate him.

The hand that retracted from her face repositioned across her chest, pulling her closer to him still.She wondered briefly if he was attempting slow suffocation.

"Not the most conventional place for a reunion, I admit," Dr. Lecter offered casually, "but I must concede to work with what I'm offered.What do you think?"

"I think you better let go of me before my reinforcements arrive."

"I was referring to our location, but if you insist on getting down to business so quickly, I'll oblige," Dr. Lecter retorted in an audible lack of interest."Though I must admit I'm a little offended.Is this what time has reduced us to, Clarice?"

Starling couldn't help herself.An involuntary jolt provoked her body to struggle once more, but the hand that pulled her to him was quick to still her movements.Again, the blade pressed to her stomach, even through the garbs of clothing.

"Now really.I know you're smarter than that," came the accusatory statement."I again ask you not to force me to something I don't want to do."

The warning, ashamedly, refused to affect her.She forced herself to regulate her breathing and calm."Dr. Lecter, you're not one to go back on your word, so forgive me if I don't take your threat seriously.After all, you promised not to—"

"What I promised, Special Agent Starling, was that I wouldn't call on you, though I can hardly expect you to remember such an astute promise verbatim after a decade.Either way…" Dr. Lecter jerked her to him sharply, causing her heart to skip a beat with the realization of his words."I'd say I have remained loyal to that.It's clear that *I* am the one being called on, wouldn't you say?"

Fear climbed up her spine once more, though she sensed he was bluffing.However, in this position, it was best not to test him.She would rather oblige and never know if he would live up to his threats.

"Clarice?Make an effort to answer, if you don't mind."

"Sure.You're being called on.Whatever.Let me go!"

"And spoil our fun so soon?"

She struggled lightly, not enough to amount to more than a scraped stomach."Dr. Lecter, I'm not here to entertain you."

"I know.A real pity."

Before she could counter with another retort, the sound of enclosing sirens broke through the barriers of the reclusive warehouse walls.A sense of terrific relief tingled through every pressure point.She felt Dr. Lecter still to perfection against her, and wondered fleetingly what he was thinking, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

When she spoke, she didn't know why.It just seemed like the thing to do."I told you.Don't bother in running, Dr. Lecter.There's no way out."

"I assume you're referring to the bullet hole you so thoughtfully provided my tire with."

"You ain't just whistlin' Dixie."

There was an air of disapproval, despite their rather hopeless position."Really, Clarice, that's a horrible saying.I expected more from you."

"You place faith blindly, it appears."

When there was no immediate reply, Starling felt herself tense.

Slowly, the arm that secured her against him stirred, unhurriedly though the sirens neared relentlessly.His hand snaked into her jacket pocket, and she felt her stomach drop as he retrieved her handcuffs, the same cuffs she had yearned to refrain from using.Starling let out a startled breath, though offered no words of defiance.It was fruitless, she knew.This man would do nothing he didn't want to.

In his own time, he took her wrists, wrenched her arms behind her, and subtly cuffed them together.Once she was securely bound, he reached again into her pocket, lingered for a minute, and withdrew once he had the jingling keys.

Starling felt like kicking herself.Even in the darkness, he had seen where she stored her essentials, obviously anticipating an encounter of this nature.

The sirens neared, but were still far enough away to amount to good time.Tugging lightly on her cuffs, Dr. Lecter stepped around, like a master leading a dog.She found herself twisted awkwardly. Through the blackness of the room, she could still see his torturous smile, and fought the temptation to spit in his eye.

"Coming?" he asked.

"Dr. Lecter…they know what I'm driving.You won't get far."

"We'll just have to see, won't we?Now, Clarice, or do I have to carry you?"

The insinuation was neither a threat nor a promise, but she knew better than to doubt his words.With the next tug, she obligatorily stumbled backward.Dr. Lecter avoided a second rumble of laughter, navigating through the halls as though he had been born and raised here.

Outside, he escorted her to the passenger side of the car, safely removing the luxury of her bag and purse and placing them in the back seat.

He knew of the third backup weapon.

Sliding into the seat next to her, Dr. Lecter hummed the ignition to life and pulled away.A thousand angry statements were with her, but she knew better than to utter any.Knowing him, he heard them clearly, even if they were in her head.

After a few minutes and a steadfast lead on her so-called reinforcements, Dr. Lecter tossed her a glance, unsurprised to see her eyes focused intently on the flashing scenery.He smiled."Oh come now, Clarice, it's not as bad as all that."

"Shut up!You can't do this!" Starling yelped in reply, straining her position that was now making her shoulder muscles ache.Realization had failed to seep in, and she was still half-convinced this was a dream, that the opera and attempted arrest was still ahead of her, and that she would awake any minute now.

Reality wasn't that simple.The car was tangible, as was the lunatic driving.

"It appears I can, and furthermore, that I have."

An aggravated growl arose from the back of her throat, though it did little more than provoke a chuckle from her captor."I advise you sleep," he suggested conversationally."It is quite a drive."

"And miss seeing where you've been hiding for the past three months? I don't think so, buddy."

"Very well.Stay awake if you like."

The lack of argument behind his voice confused her.After all, unless he planned on tying her up, she would get to a phone, or a computer, and send her plea for help.A rescue squad would arrive in no time.

Perhaps he *did* intend on tying her up.To show her what it was like to have freedom taken away.To show her what she was asking of him.

Somehow, she doubted it.That seemed a bit trite, especially for Dr. Lecter.

Nevertheless, waiting out the ride proved ineffective.Fatigue set in, but she refused to go down without battle. Starling grew tired studying darkened scenery and averted her eyes to the clock on the dashboard.It slowly ticked by an hour, then another, and before she allowed herself to wait another duration, her eyes closed.

And she was asleep.

***


	6. The Grand Tour

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Starling awoke to the sound of the engine roaring to a stop.The first thing she was aware of was an intense tightening in her shoulder blades, and severe pain shooting through her arms.It took an expected minute for the recollection to sweep in, and when it did, she lurched forward in newfound alertness.

The still passenger next to her did not so much as flicker in interest, much less surprise at her crude awakening.Instead, he sat back and unbuckled the seat belt before reaching across to assist with hers.When his skin brushed her arm, she reacted to the touch as though burnt.Dr. Lecter arched an eyebrow, yet still offered no words.He helped himself to his feet and made the trip around the car to gentlemanly open her door for her.

Resisting only a minute, Starling climbed out, hoping her gaze shot daggers.However, she knew on some level that her coldness would go ignored, at least for now.He expected it, given recent developments, and had no reason to show surprise.

It was still dark.Starling did not know how long she slept, but knew it couldn't have been more than an hour or so.While she didn't expect time to flow accurately in this state of dementia, she was hoping there was something to rely on.

Against the evening sky stood a rather large house, modestly proportioned.Though she could make out little detail, it was easy to tell this place was lovely.It had Dr. Lecter written all over it.Large, undoubtedly elegant, fit to suit all of his needs, whatever they might be.She found herself wondering how he killed the previous owner.

"Here, Clarice," Dr. Lecter said softly, startling her, as though she forgot he was standing there.When she turned to receive his gaze, it left her mind to be cold, or even angered.Now, all she knew was she was tired, perversely more so after her nap.Sleeping in cars was never really her thing, and all she wanted to do at the moment was get rest.

Was it possible to get rest?Knowing where she was, whom she was with, that she was likely being held hostage?Certainly not.

Dr. Lecter reached for her cuffed hands and slowly unworked the lock.Starling waited to hear them clank to the ground so she could dive for them, but knew somewhere he would never allow himself to exhibit such clumsiness. 

But then it didn't matter.Her arms, tired and sore from long confinement, reveled in newfound liberty, stretching luxuriously.Then she remembered herself, and turned with sudden anger to Dr. Lecter, visibly prepared to pounce and wrestle him for the rights to her freedom.He stopped her by raising his Harpy in silent reminder of his prior threat, however empty she still believed it to be.

Starling dejectedly settled to rekindle her cold stare, and caught the hint of amusement in his eyes as he tucked the Harpy out of sight, but never out of reach.

"I wonder how you intend on keeping me here," she snapped."Got any rope, Dr. Lecter?"

"Certainly not," he scoffed in reply, as though insulted by the suggestion."No, Clarice, I permit you grounds to walk freely among my current residence.You are my guest, of course.I do hope you'll see it that way."

A growl arose in the back of her throat, and she *felt* her eyes darken."Dr. Lecter, it's rather inconceivable to believe I'm your guest when you cuffed me and forced me to tag along." Her voice hinted the release of some of the ice storm.There was a genuine question now, a question she hesitated to ask for fear of the answer, yet had to all the same."Why bring me along at all?You could have cuffed me and left."

There was a sigh in reply as Dr. Lecter tilted his head slightly to study her.She wondered if he was thinking up an answer, but knew the better of that.If there was an applicable reply, he knew it already, and had kept it in preparation for this question.When he drew in again, she sensed a suggestion of preamble."Well," he said, "the first rule in the Fugitive's Handbook always advised you carry a hostage.You just happened to be a fortunate coincidence."

Starling couldn't help her snicker."Lucky me," she drawled.

"Mmm…I was hoping you'd say that."

"Doctor—"

"The second reason was I decided to bring you along was it would have been terribly rude to leave you there, handcuffed and susceptible to mice and whatever rodents tend to lurk in abandoned stockrooms."Hmm…perhaps it wasn't a preamble after all, though she didn't entirely accept that second explanation as a valid reason.Of course, this man needed no justification.He did what he wanted with no fear of the consequences.

A short silence followed.Very short silence.

"Dr. Lecter…how do you expect to keep me here, without constraints?You know the first thing I'll do is—"

"I may be getting old, Clarice, but I have learned not to repeat my mistakes.You'll find all lines of communication have safely been discontinued."As he spoke, Dr. Lecter offered her a smile that made her want to smack him."No computers or laptops, phones or pagers. I'm afraid you're stuck here, isolated.With me."

Starling felt as though someone had wrapped their hand around her throat and severed her air supply.He smiled at her reaction and nodded as last confirmation."Afraid, so, Clarice.When I learned you were reassigned to my case, I knew some precautions had to be taken…just in case you should find your way here.Though I admit it has been rather tedious to resort to public libraries to study the FBI's ever dull public website, they really are convenient, should you want to elude technology.

"As for your weapons, I will safely dispose of them tonight.Wouldn't want you to get any ideas."Dr. Lecter broke gaze then and turned back to the manor."Lovely, isn't it?I believe it was constructed during British colonization, though I admit I haven't had time to do any ample studying.The mornings here are lovely."

Something crashed to the left of her, and Starling's attention jerked again.She realized it was the ocean water hitting the coast, and wondered how she missed it upon arrival.It then occurred to her that with everything that had developed this evening, minor details such as location, especially with all contact confiscated, meant very little.

She wondered how far they were from Beijing.Not too far, notably.A comfortable drive away, something close enough to satisfy the doctor without wearing on his patience.

"Did you just up and buy the place?" she asked a minute later, the everydayness of her question stinging her ears, though she made no move to retract.

"And provide a substantial lead for you fortune seekers?" Dr. Lecter replied, his tone somewhere between teasing and serious."Hardly, Clarice, I thought for sure Reuben Tow was enough attention for you."

"Then where is the owner?"

"Quite dead, I assure you."

Starling felt herself numb, then tingle with a rush of triumph.In her orders to the men just yesterday, she told them to keep a lookout for the murders of wealthy landowners.Perhaps there was some cause for optimism yet.

As if sensing her hopeful thoughts and feeling determined to bring her down once more, Dr. Lecter intervened."I admit, Clarice, I thought it might be thirsty work…finding a man with no heirs, or living relatives of any kind.But don't you think his death might have been reported to your friends at the FBI, if someone had come by to look for him?There were some clues I refused to leave for you."

That riled her attention."Clues?What do you mean?"

An air of agitation passed, a rare sight.She remembered seeing it the night of Paul Krendler's lobotomy.It was merely a glance, but that glance was enough.A few seconds of thought reminded her what provoked it – she offered to give him information from his profiles.His reply was irritated, and though she couldn't recall everything he said, the words 'greasy coin' came to mind.

"Honestly, Clarice, I thought you to be more perceptive than this."

"Are you telling me you did all this to *draw* me here?"Anger replaced disbelief, anger and blunt shock at his forwardness.

"I am telling you nothing, though I do trust you to come to your own conclusions.What I say really means little in the end, for you'll believe what you want to believe."Dr. Lecter took a minute to exert a breath, his eyes falling again to the mansion."I suspect you'll want to sleep in.Understandable…you've had a rough few days."

"This isn't exactly the dream getaway vacation I imagined, Dr. Lecter."

"I know, but it's all I can offer right now, Special Agent Starling."The formality tagged to the end of his dialogue made her shiver with a sense of discredit.That's who she was, wasn't it?It was who she allowed herself to believe she was.

Somehow, hearing it here, in the dead of night on the Asian continent, spoken by her newfound vanquisher, Starling felt herself unworthy of the title.After all, would a *real* special agent allow this to happen?She thought not.A real special agent would have killed Dr. Lecter by now, whether at the lake house, or at the opera, or in the dark halls of the warehouse.

Well, she couldn't say that for sure, but she knew they would have tried. 

"Are you quite ready, Clarice?" he asked casually.

"It doesn't look like I have much of a choice, now does it?" she scoffed in reply.

Smiling quaintly to himself, Dr. Lecter seized Starling's right arm and began the slow march inward."I suppose not," he complied.Had the situation differed, she could have sworn his voice conceded something of defeat.

Like the warehouse before it, Starling found companionable warmth inside the manor.It was menacingly dark, though when Dr. Lecter switched on a lamp, her eyes flinched.After adjusting, she blinked a few times and took a good long look around.

It was a lovely home.Absolutely lovely.Decorated with the finest antique furniture, some British, some Chinese.Though Starling was a tad uneducated on her Asian history, she sensed an abundance of both cultural upbringings here, as well as a set of advised influences.She wondered if the décor had changed at all in the past hundred years, though everything was obsessively cleaned.

There were no modern conveniences in this house, besides indoor plumbing and electricity.

"Do you want the grand tour, or shall I wait until tomorrow?"

Without considering, Starling shook her head.

"Are you sure?Suppose you awake and need something?Wouldn't want to risk you running about in the darkness."

There was a passive note to the end of Dr. Lecter's voice that nearly drove her off the edge.A witty retort was ready on her tongue, but then she considered and thought the better of it.Perhaps it was for the best that she know her way around.After all, once the territory was memorized, the better to plan her escape…

That thought was near ridiculous.How did she plan on getting away?He had her car keys and she had no idea how far from civilization they were, from any form of contact.

Dr. Lecter smiled, as though reading her thoughts."Afraid so, Clarice.I doubt you'll want to try to go anywhere without me."

Aggravation overcame her, and Starling stomped her foot down in a reluctant demonstration."Why are you doing this to me?" she demanded.By this time, the fight had abandoned her voice, leaving her to sound frightened and distressed.

"Is that defeat I hear, Agent Starling?So soon?I don't know whether to be inspired or disappointed.After all, I anticipated you would put up a more illustrative fight," Dr. Lecter noted pointedly, his tone neither pleasant nor unpleasant.

She arched a brow."Oh, I'll put up a fight.But not tonight…" In truth, Starling felt up to a few more rounds if only she weren't so tired.

"The tour, then?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I would like to think so, and I'm sure you would, too.However, I suppose it's easier for you to disagree with me on everything at the minute, therefore to ease your conscience, I'll make it mandatory."Dr. Lecter offered his arm, ever the gentlemen."Shall we?"

She stared at him for a long minute, then his offered arm, before shaking her head in rejection."I can walk by myself, thank you."

The reply came in the form of a disapproving air."Give me your arm, Clarice."

"I said—"

"Lest I remind you, this is obligatory."At that, he flashed a smile that made her want to gnash her teeth."Your arm?"

When she refused to obey, Dr. Lecter's eyes glittered with a spark of impatience.Abruptly, he seized her by the forearm and clocked them together at the elbows.Starling stumbled against his strength, but made no move to retract her appendage.To do so was redundant, and would do little more than waste time.

"Ah," Dr. Lecter piped, as though the breech in fortitude never occurred."That's better, wouldn't you agree?Yessss…this way, if you don't mind."Without awaiting her reply, he started, almost jerking her off her feet again until she settled at a comfortable pace beside him.

Not one inch of the manor went unexplored.The kitchen, the various lavatories, the guest rooms, the parlors, the storm shelter, the dining room, even the entry closets, should she get cold and want a jacket, he said.Intentionally, he announced the two last stops as the bedrooms they would separately occupy.

"Now then," he said, slowly withdrawing his grasp on her arm to push the door to his chamber open. "This is where I sleep, more or less.For reasons of your convenience, I'll leave the door open.You, my dear…" Unexpectedly, he seized her arm again and led her a short distance down the hall."I believe you'll find this comfortable.I did not choose randomly.This is one of the better rooms."

"And pure coincidence, I'm sure, that it's just down the hall from yours."

At that, he smiled again."Of course."

A beat of silence settled between them.The hallway was dark, and in the early stirrings of morning, the only sound she could hear – aside from her pounding heart – was Dr. Lecter's steady breaths, ricocheting hotly off her face.Approached with the urge to flinch, she decided against it, instead omitting a deep breath of her own.

"Well," he said at last, releasing her from the nook of his arm to gently apply pressure to her back, encouraging her enter."You've had a busy day, and I'm sure you're exhausted.I won't disturb you in the morning, though I will be sure to have a fantastic breakfast prepared."His eyes sparkled at that, a subtle reminder of their last meal together.Starling rolled her shoulders to fight back the shudder.Noting this, Dr. Lecter released an appreciative chuckle."It will more enjoyable than our last. For you, at least. I promise."

Starling turned to him, standing now in the dark of her room.Once again, she let out a trembling breath, her eyes widening with either the impact of realization or the fear of it.

Dr. Lecter did not react to her gaze.Instead, he smoothly grasped the brass handle, pulling the door closed."Goodnight, Clarice.Pleasant dreams."

Though the hallway was dark, the room seemed to lose more light as Dr. Lecter's face disappeared to the other side of the barrier. 

Shut.

Darkness.

She was alone.

***


	7. The Museum

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Despite her overwhelming fatigue, Starling found terrible difficulty in working herself to sleep.Lying on her back in the comfortable pajamas Dr. Lecter set out for her, she studied the decorative ceiling patterns, unblinking.Her mind laid traps for her, and though an overwhelming part of her rationalism still expected to wake and find this a dream, she grumbled with the knowledge that sleep was undoubtedly easier for her captor.

Sleep.Would he sleep?Knowing that someone who hated him with as much passion as she did was just down the hallway?Starling knew the only way for her to escape was to end his life, or wound him severely enough to deem him harmless.There were many ways she could do it.Smother him with a pillow, venture downstairs and steal one of the sharper butchering knives…then she could find her keys and be on her way.She was within her rights.

But Starling knew these thoughts were in vain.Despite everything, everything he put her through and would assuredly continue to put her through, she could never bring it upon herself to end his life.That was her weakness, her dominant flaw as an agent.Never could she see herself as the enemy.Sure, she could point her weapon and sputter threats, demands, requests…but she would never pull the trigger.To do so would be no different than killing the big-bad bully of a schoolyard.Honestly, what was the distinction?Both had semi-personal relationships with their acquaintances, both talked others into doing what they want, and both had an insufferable weakness.Tragic flaw.The hero's downfall.

Besides, even if she wanted to kill Dr. Lecter, he would assuredly hear her before any valiant effort could be made.

The deeper reasons for her reluctance to bring her fist against his in anger were harder to explain.Something told her she preferred not to know, yet already did, on some forbidden level.

If only she had put up more of a fight!This ugly mess could have been avoided, and she would never be here, battling the man she spent most of her career pursuing for freedom.Freedom?From which?When she did return – if she returned – could she walk back into that office, knowing what they did to her?In the long run, it was Pearsall's fault she was here.He hadn't see past Dr. Lecter's methods anymore than she had.Instead, he saw a dead man, trimmed for meat, and, like everyone else, took the bait.

Never had it crossed through anyone's mind that the killing was just a strategy to get her here.Dr. Lecter planned everything out carefully.No cuffs this time, no morphine.He wanted her to crumple, to fall into his helpful grasp before more damage could be done.These extremes were necessary to show her how easily manipulative the Bureau was, what would ultimately happen if she stayed.

Part one of his plan complete.Starling noted this, only partially discouraged.On some level, she had known before coming.Thoughts of resignation toyed idly in her mind on her way overseas, through her speech to the men, at the opera…everything that brought her here.

All right.If he could accomplish that much without needing to coax, how easily might the rest of his plans submerge?

Starling shook her head, banishing that thought.With a breath, she decided it was best to again attempt sleep, these confusing and angry-worthy notions doing little to assist her current disposition.In her own time, she rolled over, enforcing a yawn to hopefully tire herself.

She remained awake long after she closed her eyes, and into the early hours of morning.

***

Despite her weariness, Starling awoke promptly at 9:00 AM.The time change had already worn its span, and she was successfully set to the Beijing hour.She took a minute to stretch, the events of the past twenty-four hours catching up with her.This time, however, she reflected without surprise or alarm.The initial period of disbelief was over, left now with anger and curiosity.

Her tortured thoughts returned in their own time.When Starling remembered, she paused, back arched in a half-stretch.Slowly releasing a breath, she forced herself to relax and put it out of her mind.

Today she had to focus on what was important.Dr. Lecter undoubtedly had something extravagant planned; something guaranteed to take her breath away, in one of his attempts to woo.As she made her way toward her closet to investigate what he might have prepared for her, she recognized she had to be prepared to take her leap.Get to a phone if the plans included a trip to town, and call immediately for help.

Amongst a variety of evening wear, jeans, and business suits, Starling discovered a comfortable-looking robe, one long enough to drag along the ground, and large enough to be thoroughly unprovocative.Satisfied, as the thought of dressing completely was rather appalling, considering the hour and her fatigue, she chose it.

Tying he sash around her waist, Starling hoped he wouldn't see anything into this, but knew not to hold her breath.Oh well.He chose it for her, knowing she would wear it sometime, and she wasn't going to concede comfort in avoidance of feeding him more ideas.

Somehow, Starling knew she was bound to do that anyway, despite her attire.

Making sure her pajama bottoms weren't clinging to her legs, she slipped into some house shoes before finally moving to the door.

The hallway was vacant; the door to Dr. Lecter's chamber open.However, without needing visual verification, she concluded it was likewise empty.Last night he mentioned the mornings here being beautiful, and knew he would want to savor every minute of it.

Pleasant smells drifted through the corridor, and involuntarily, her stomach rumbled.Starling realized she hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours, having been much too nervous to successfully consume anything before the opera.Now, even though the situation seemed hopeless, she thought it safe to try and get some food in her system.

A shudder raced up her spine, wondering generally if Dr. Lecter would bother to personalize his meals with any special touches.

But she had his promise that this would be an enjoyable meal.It should have felt odd, placing confidence in the word of a cannibalistic evil genius, but she barely gave it a second thought.

As she stepped into the kitchen, she was greeted with a promising whiff of breakfasty-goodness.She succumbed an unwilled minute to inhale, taking pleasure in the idea of a home-cooked meal. It had been a while since she had the time to sit down and prepare herself anything.Looking back, the last time she was at a dinner table, she…

Didn't want to think about that.

Dr. Lecter's back was to her, but she didn't bother in trying anything that might get her pushed against a refrigerator.The thought failed to flicker through her mind.

Though she knew he was alert to her presence the moment she stepped into the room by the way his breathing intensified – trying to catch more of her scent over the aroma of breakfast – he took his time in acknowledging her.Slowly whirling around, giving her the whimsical image of him washing dishes, he smiled at her, failing to give her attire a second glance.

"Good morning, Clarice."

Starling drew in another breath, careful to make her tone as icy as possible."Hello, Dr. Lecter."

"I trust you slept well?"

"As well as one can expect under such conditions."

"Better than your hotel, at least?"

That question caught her off guard, though she made a quick recovery."I admit, your mattresses seem of higher quality."

He smiled at that."I should hope so."Drawing in a breath, he turned his attention to the set table to his left."Breakfast, Clarice?"

"I suppose," she retorted, moving in the direction of his eyes.Once seated, she raised her voice again, seemingly in defiance."Of course, I guess I don't have a choice, do I?"

A pause.He frowned."Hmm…I won't force you to consume anything.If you want to go hungry, by all means…"

Starling had a witty reply prepared, but her rumbling stomach betrayed her.Taking a sip of his victory, Dr. Lecter readied a helping of the wonderful-smelling food on a lovely dish and set it in front of her.Before she could dig in, or even express the interest of digging in, he moved to pour her milk and fresh orange juice.

Slowly, Starling reached for her cloth napkin – another luxury she was unaccustomed to – and folded it in her lap."Thank you," she uttered, speaking as though she wished not to be heard.

"My pleasure," he assured her, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table.A cup of wonderful-smelling coffee was in his grasp, but Starling didn't want to ask him for anything.Instead, she turned her attention to her meal, hesitantly taking the first bite.

Dr. Lecter studied her reluctance with amusement, sipping his coffee.She was careful not to reflect how tasty it was, better, admittedly – if only to herself – than any breakfast food, or food, for that matter, that she could remember eating.However, by the curious way he looked at her, she reveled in knowing this could be kept hidden.Even from him.

It was nice to know she had control over *something*.Still, despite her hunger, she ate slowly, wanting to savor every bite.

This seemed to agitate Dr. Lecter, though he refrained from comment.

"What are we doing today?" she asked finally, taking a sip of her orange juice and finding it delectable.

"We?You're quick to presume, Clarice."

Starling shrugged simply."All right then.What are *you* doing today, if your plans don't include me?"

Dr. Lecter indulged her in a short staring contest before grinning."Well, I originally intended to visit the local museums, make the best of an awkward location.However, I suspect you ordered have them watched, didn't you?"

At the mention of museums, Starling's heart leapt with a fleeting inkling of hope.Again the words of her instructions to the men that accompanied her on this mission came rushing back."No, I didn't," she lied hastily.

A disapproving silence settled over them.Dr. Lecter's gaze was hard as nails, seeing, of course, through her lie without much effort.He took a long sip of coffee before deciding to dignify her with a reply."Hmm…shame, Clarice, to think you feel the need to resort to dishonesty.I had no intention, either way, of changing my plans.There are certain precautions I can take to be sure our trip will go without hitch.Need further convincing, or must I resort to handcuffs again?"

The threat did not go ignored.At the mention of handcuffs, her arm muscles tightened in a desperate plea to remain unharnessed.Quickly, she shook her head, ready to obey.

"What features will they look for, Clarice?What have you told them about me?"

"To hell if I tell you!"

A tired look spread across Dr. Lecter's face."Do I really have threaten you?I might have to bind your arms, after all."

The color visibly drained from Starling's face, and she rolled her shoulders again."I've told them nothing," she amended quickly."They have eye color, hair color, height, weight…they'll probably expect you in Armani, or some other fancy brand name."

"And yourself?"

Starling blanked for a minute before realizing what he was aiming at."Oh…umm…they won't suspect me to be—"

"Of course they will.You called in reinforcements after chasing me into that warehouse.Where else would you be?"Dr. Lecter's eyes narrowed further."You're destined to be recognized wherever we go, Clarice."

Releasing a defeated sigh, Starling shrugged."The same as you, I guess.Eye and hair color, especially.Things that would at first disqualify me as the woman they're looking for."

Dr. Lecter nodded, though she doubted her corroboration on those features was required.Slowly, she finished her breakfast, more out of habit.Her appetite had abandoned her.

After a few minutes, Dr. Lecter stood."I'll take care of the dishes, Clarice.Why don't you go find something comfortable to slip into?Might I suggest jeans, something loose?You'll remember the car ride was long and strenuous."

Grumbling, Starling nodded, climbing to her feet."I remember," she spat bitterly."Thanks for the thought."

The hostility in her tone went ignored.Dr. Lecter didn't look at her as she stormed off.Likewise, the slamming of her bedroom door passed without so much as a flinch.

***

Their day in town was splendid – or would have been, under different conditions.The afternoon passed at a leisurely pace.They stopped for lunch at a quaint bistro before embracing the city.

In truth, there were only two museums Dr. Lecter expressed any interest in.One was the Lu Xun, an establishment dedicated to the writings of the author for which it was named.Xun's pieces dealt with the sufferings of the Chinese in the post-Qing era.Dr. Lecter took particular interest in the west side of the grounds, where the author resided from 1924 to 1926.

** **

The second museum was in commemoration of the artistic works of Xu Beihong, famous for realistic paintings of galloping horses on canvas.Though Starling hated to admit it, she found much of the history perversely interesting, like gathering information she could use to zap others at trivia.

Their disguises were comical.Dr. Lecter wore over-sized blue jeans and a flannel shirt.His graying scalp was covered with a whimsical Cubs baseball cap.Contact lenses tinted his eyes brown, and even then, he hid them behind large glasses.Starling had to go to similar extents. Instead of coloring her hair, or even hiding it with a wig, she conceded finally to stuff it all under a ball cap.She was likewise donned in jeans, and a loose white tank top covered her upper body.Dark sunglasses covered her eyes instead of contacts, and she wasn't permitted to remove them at any stop.

When Dr. Lecter announced it was time to return, Starling requested a short rest room break before they headed out.Untrustingly, it took a minute (and an immodest search of the ladies room) before he agreed.He warned he would be waiting outside.

Once provided with privacy, Starling wasted no time in diving for her purse.A few impatient seconds passed before she found her query.Holding it to eyesight, she smiled, a sense of perhaps premature relief coursing through her.It was lipstick, virtually unused.

Scrolling the long stem out, Starling hurriedly applied it to one of the stall walls and began scribbling a frantic message to whoever might happen to see it.However, as she neared the end, her own impatience caught up with her, and the stick broke promptly in two.

Letting out a muffled sob, Starling bent forward to pick it up and resume, then realized it would leave telltale marks on her hands, irrefutable evidence that she couldn't possibly wash out.

Defeated, Starling turned her eyes to what was written.

'HANNIBAL LECTER IN BEIJING.HOUSE ON BEAC…'

With a sigh, she exited the stall and washed her hands clean of any lipstick residue.Oh well.Should someone find the message, there was still hope.She had done all she could.

Regulating her breathing, she made her way outside to face him again.

The ride ahead, he assured, would be long and boring.He suggested she sleep.

***


	8. First Touch

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

In spite of Dr. Lecter's direction, Starling remained relatively alert on the way home. Though she didn't offer much conversation, she answered politely to whatever he asked. For the most part, however, attempts at lengthy dialogue were rejected. Her captor didn't appear discouraged at her reluctance, rather agreeable and pleasant.

Starling found it was becoming difficult to hate him, and that thought frightened her. Her mind raced to the note left frantically on the bathroom wall of their previous stop. Doubt clouded her mind. With the whimsical toss of their attire, she felt it unlikely they were spotted. The few security cameras that aligned the museums were carefully avoided. It was to her disadvantage that she was in the grasp of an experienced, intelligent fugitive, careful to a fault. He was too cautious to slip from fortitude, too observant to miss anything. 

_ _

_Well,_ she thought with some satisfaction. _Almost. _

Still, the message left encrypted was in English, and incomplete. All she could do was wait and hope. 

Sourly, Starling noted the lack of adequate surveillance, despite the regulations she set. 

_ _

_When the cat's away,_ she thought glumly. 

Dr. Lecter shook her from her reverie, speaking suddenly. "I hope you enjoyed yourself, Clarice. I can understand if museums don't intrigue you. Your upbringing was rather primitive, I gather." 

That would have hurt had it come from anyone else. However, Starling was used to it; prepared. 

When she opened her mouth to reply, she dejectedly caught the lack of coldness in her voice, yet made no attempt to reset herself. It was obvious it had little affect on him, and she rather not waste the effort. "It was interesting, Dr. Lecter." 

"Interesting?" 

"I wouldn't want to make a habit of it, if that's what you're asking." 

A spark of amusement flickered behind his eyes. "Hmm…I would love to enlighten you. Though I admit I have visited more compelling attractions, it was mildly entertaining. Perhaps we'll visit Rome someday, Clarice. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" 

Starling froze as the color drained from her face. For a minute, she forgot to breathe. Had she heard correctly? She thought so. Did he intend *never* to release her? How long did he think that would last before she ultimately forced him to end her life? 

There were other things she could do. She could cause a scene in public, stir up some unwanted attention. That caused her to pause and consider. Why had she refrained from it that afternoon? It was the perfect opportunity, yet failed to cross her mind. 

_ _

_Because,_ she told herself, _on some level, you don't want to be rescued. Only to return to that land of traitors and people who do little more than talk behind your back? Here, at least, you can be yourself. _

Still, that was easily settled. Once rescued, she would hand in her resignation. Simple as that. 

_Only, Agent Starling, you don't want to be rescued at *all*, do you? You're enjoying yourself here, even if you don't want to admit it. Perversely, of course. You don't want to be taken from this. _

_ _

_No!_ Starling gave her head a furious shake, banishing that thought hurriedly. The motion captured Dr. Lecter's attention, but she didn't gratify him a responsive glance. 

Her mind refused to grant her appeal. _You were glad when the lipstick broke, weren't you? Overall discouraged, but that covered something else, didn't it? Relief. Can't you admit that? _

_ _

NO! 

"Clarice? Are you all right?" 

"Fine!" she barked in quick reply. "Perfectly fine." 

Though she wasn't looking at him, she felt his smile, and it drove her insane. 

"Sure?" he inquired with keen interest. 

"Positive." 

Though he did not offer further comment, Starling knew he was amused. Sighing in aggravation, she turned again to her window, trying desperately to focus on another matter. 

The rest of the trip carried through in silence. 

* * *

Starling felt a rush of excitement when Dr. Lecter announced he would be cooking again. Though she knew alternative means of nourishment were temporarily restricted, it never occurred it her that he would personally prepare supper for her. Of course, she should have known. Despite the conditions, he was the perfect gentlemen, and wanted to be sure she was as comfortable as possible. 

The thought was upon her that she no longer considered herself a prisoner. On some level, she never had. Were prisoners given liberty, near absolute trust, fed top-notch food, and provided day-trips to town? When Dr. Lecter first abducted her, he made a whimsical reference to a fictional Fugitive's Handbook. In the Hostage's Instruction Guide, she couldn't recall the suggestions of comfort. 

She could, however, remember reading about the Stockholm Syndrome, and *that* thought terrified her. Not because of the possibility, rather the implication. 

At seven o'clock, Dr. Lecter suggested she might slip into one of the evening gowns he placed in her closet. Though Starling didn't want anything too revealing or evocative, she decided to abide. Fighting was useless. Besides, she was in the mindset to agree with anything at the moment. As long as it kept him preoccupied, she would oblige. 

The dress she selected was beautiful. Dr. Lecter left her no other option than to look stunning. It was wine-red and sleeveless, of lady-like-length, though she suspected that was more for her benefit than his. 

When she entered the dining room, Dr. Lecter stopped abruptly, carrying a covered tray. Starling felt herself crimson, almost by instinct. The awkwardness didn't last long. He cleared his throat professionally before placing the serving dish on the decorative table. 

Letting out an anxious breath, Starling hated to admit her nerves were bouncing in every which direction. She bolted for her seat before he could look at her again. 

The centerpiece was large and lovely, but low enough not to block their line of vision. 

"First course, Clarice?" 

She cocked her head as though considering. "Umm…sure." 

Stopping as he lifted the tray-cover, he arched a brow. "Was that a yes or a no, Agent Starling?" 

"All right! Whatever. Just…" 

"Just…?"

Starling sighed in annoyance and sat back. "Just serve." 

The expression on Dr. Lecter's face emerged from unreadable. With a smile, he scooped a healthy helping onto her plate. Sensing his love of patience, she refrained from reaching for her fork. He poured her a glass of wine as she folded her napkin into her lap. 

It looked delicious. 

Starling studied the wine after he withdrew, returning to the other end of the table. "What is this?" she asked. 

"Chateau D'Yquem. A favored brand. You'll enjoy it." 

Shrugging, she set the glass down and waited for him to situate. Something rumbled within her stomach, but she didn't think it was hunger. No, something else. 

Raising his glass, Dr. Lecter offered a pleasant smile. "A toast, Clarice?" 

If you say to 'absent friends,' I'm leaving. I've seen this movie before, Starling thought dryly. 

"A toast…I suppose." She lifted her glass. 

"To beginnings, would you say? Is that accurate?" 

Starling's gaze darkened. "Beginnings to what, Dr. Lecter?" 

In response, he offered an innocent shrug. "I suppose we'll have to see. That's up to you, really." 

She swallowed hard. "Up to me?" Without drinking, she set the wine down. "Dr. Lecter…whatever you're thinking, please stop." 

"Certainly. I won't discuss it further, that is, without your consent." There was a teasing tone to the end of his voice, and again, anger flustered within her. He was insufferable. 

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence. Starling drank her wine quickly, keeping her eyes on Dr. Lecter all the while. Though his gaze remained focused on his meal, she sensed he was watching her through other means. That man could see anything. She didn't want to blink, lest she miss something. 

Idle chitchat all through the main course. Nothing to write down in her diary. 

As Dr. Lecter rolled out the desert, Starling drew in a breath of courage. There was one area she felt she had avoided, well, in her rational state. Something she had to know. Given her tormented thoughts throughout the previous evening and that day, even after her treacherous message on the bathroom stall, it had become a sensitive concern. She feared she was losing something that was owed at least an attempt to be saved. 

Bravado pulsing through her, she raised her voice when he was beside her, handing her something that looked delectable. "Dr. Lecter…how long are you planning to keep me here?" 

For a minute, she feared he wouldn't respond. After all, there was no reason to. She had asked the question before and wasn't gratified an answer. He had what he wanted, and that was all that mattered to him. However, in the course of the past twenty-four hours, she had emerged from that state of irrational cloudiness. 

Still, he managed to surprise her. In a tone that was agreeable and soft, he replied, "As long as it takes." 

A fleeting rush of hope struck her. "As long as what takes?" 

"For you to see what they were doing to you. Eat up, Clarice." 

Ignoring his instruction, Starling pressed forward as he moved away, presumably to reclaim his seat. "I saw, Dr. Lecter. I've seen. I've already made up my mind to resign. Please?" 

Sitting, Dr. Lecter repositioned his napkin in his lap. "Fed up with my company, already? And to think…after all we've been through together." 

She let out a trembling breath, choosing not to think about that. "What more do you want? I told you I've seen—" 

"Clarice." 

"Dr. Lecter!" 

"Clarice," he repeated, his eyes steady on her, imploring hers with explanation. Then she understood. The answer was on his voice, unspoken, the answer she was dreading. The answer she had to hear. Something about it being implicit but seen in his gaze made it all the more difficult to grasp, to accept. 

He was keeping her here until she broke, and not just from the Bureau. Until she was his completely. Until he had *everything* he wanted. 

That thought enraged her. 

"Eat your desert, Clarice," he said softly, more of a demand than a request. 

Visibly quivering with anger, Starling looked up, her eyes reflecting fire. "I don't want any." Her voice shook with the tremors of her body, dripping with her hatred, her confusion, her raw anger. The emotions that she was unable to control, and wouldn't, should she be so talented. 

Dr. Lecter tilted his head at her, unaffected by her coldness. "I made it just for you." 

That broke her. It was nothing definite or provocative, but all in the same, it caused her patience to fold. In a swift motion, she was on her feet, slamming her napkin onto the table as her fists followed, making the wooden frame shake. "You can't do this!" she screamed. "You can't hold me here prisoner and *force* me to love you!" 

A long silence settled as her outburst died down the corridor. Starling found herself locked in a staring contest with Dr. Lecter but refused to look away. Something significant sparked behind his eyes, though he didn't speak. 

She felt a wave of self-consciousness flush over her, followed predictably with remorse. However, she couldn't let him see this. Just as he, she was strong willed and stubborn. Nothing won with ease, and admittance into an apology would take much coaxing, even if she knew her wrong. 

Then suddenly, it broke. The next thing she was aware of, Starling was pressed against the far wall, her wrists held over her head with his left hand, a pressure at her neck. Though the touch was unthreatening, she recognized something dangerous in his eyes, something she had never before seen. Was this the last thing his victims saw? This contempt for those who pushed him to limits never before treaded? Starling swallowed an alarmed breath and tried desperately not to let her fear reveal itself. 

He spoke, then, voice husky and perilous. His words chilled her. The pressure at her neck didn't relinquish or tighten, but the implied danger was enough to make her wet herself. 

"Do you realize how easy it would be for me, Clarice? The slightest pinch, held accurately, and you would never again have reason to worry of your duties, what I might steal from you. What you might *allow* me to steal." For the briefest minute, the grip on her neck constricted, as though he really would go through with it. Starling closed her eyes, unwilling to look at the fire behind his any longer. She wanted to choke a sob, but dared not flex for the world. 

Then, as rapidly as it came, his outrage withdrew. The hold relinquished, though he didn't pull away. Instead, his fingers ran soft strokes over her reddened skin, as if to soothe. When Dr. Lecter spoke again, his tone was equally passive. "But I won't," he said, breath hot on her face. "You know that, you've always known that. Just remember not to take my good graces for granted, Clarice. You're better to remember yourself." 

Before she could open her eyes, or even summon for her voice, he was gone, the warm shield vanished – allowing her to be hit with a wave of cold air. Starling breathed harshly, her arms remaining over her head, as though not having registered that his grip no longer held them. 

It took a minute to collect herself. Dr. Lecter did not look at her as he left the room, pushing the cart that held their dishes into the kitchen. 

Starling remained immobile longer than she wanted to admit. Heart still pounding furiously, she trembled as she forced herself from the wall. By the time she made it to the table, she was fighting for balance, clutching to the head of a chair. She was thankful when he opted not to reenter, not wanting him to see how badly he shook her, though on some level she knew it was too late. 

Strength gathered after a few minutes and she felt stable to walk again. When her legs didn't betray her, she ran to her room and slammed the door shut. 

* * *

An hour later, Starling sat on the carpet in the larger parlor, having retrieved a glass of wine for herself. The dress was gone, replaced now with the white tank top she wore earlier and pajama pants. She watched the fire play in the darkness, lost in the voidance of her forbidden thoughts. A tightening grasped her neck, but she wasn't alarmed, or even angry. After what she said, after the outburst caused by her carelessness, it was almost justifiable. 

In his terms, anyway. 

Starling was terribly afraid she was getting used to this, even after only two days. Without the morphine or the possibility of phoning for assistance, Dr. Lecter was a difficult one to battle. There was no choice but to listen, or watch. What she had seen here did not suggest savageness. Well, everything but that outburst in the dining room. 

The fire flickered as Dr. Lecter entered the room. Starling's head tilted but she didn't look to him. Something that resembled shyness overcame her, as well as shame. He sat in a chair across from her. 

They said nothing for a minute. 

Finally, Starling drew in a breath and placed her wine on the coffee table. "Dr. Lecter…" she said softly. "I want to apologize—" 

"No need, Clarice," he excused, his gaze intent on her neck, studying the bruise he left. "I'm sorry I hurt you." 

She shook her head, subconsciously reaching to touch the soreness at her throat. "It doesn't hurt," she assured him. That was mostly the truth. The physical wound didn't register; the implication of what caused it could have killed her. "Not as much as my stomach, anyway." 

Where had that last part come from? Oh yes. The pain she had ignored for two days, the one caused by his Harpy at the warehouse. She wondered why it should occur to her to mention that. To tease the guilt? 

She hoped it had gone unnoticed. For some reason, causing him blame right now felt dirty and unsportsmanlike. It seemed to vacate her head that she was here against her will, being denied her freedom. 

"Your stomach, Clarice?" 

"Dr. Lecter," she intervened, hoping to send him off course. "Let me go." 

"Your stomach?" he repeated, bluntly dismissing her request. 

"It's nothing." 

"Clarice." His voice coaxed her eyes to meet his, and she found herself trapped, unable to look away, unable to defer with another question, unable to do anything but respond. 

Slowly, her hand traveled to the hem of her tank and curled it in her fingers. "When you abducted me…that Harpy left quite the impression." 

Dr. Lecter's eyes widened as he sat forward, coming from his chair to her on the carpet. "Let me see," he insisted softly. 

"It's not necessary—" 

"Let me see." 

Knowing there was no other option, Starling extended the fabric to his reach in silent concede. Slowly, she felt the material slide up her abdomen, baring her stomach to him. There was a welt there, a rather large one. She heard Dr. Lecter breathe a guilty sigh, his fingers brushing the wound slightly, making her flinch, though not in pain. 

"Oh, Clarice," he said with a sigh. "Wait here. I'll be back." 

Before she could reply, he was to his feet, walking briskly to the kitchen. When he returned, he held a moistened washcloth and some lotion. Coming once again to her side, he gently applied the rag on the swelling. The feeling was cool, but overall unneeded. Whatever pain was there failed to register, though Starling held the hem up for him anyway, knowing he would allow no differently. When finished, he turned and lathered the lotion into his hands lightly before rubbing it into her skin. 

The sensation was heavenly. 

"Dr. Lecter, this isn't necessary." 

"It is," he argued gently. "This shouldn't have happened. You have an…" He looked up to savor the affect of his words on her face, "uncanny effect on me." 

Starling released a trembling breath, wanting to run, wanting to flee, wanting to be anywhere but here. Something within her stirred once more, something dark and forbidden. His eyes locked hers and held them there for a minute, the soft caresses at her stomach continuing. Then, slowly as though he were unaware of his acts, Dr. Lecter's eyes dropped to study his healing tough before allowing his head to follow. 

Something primitive escaped her lips as she felt him run his tongue over the irritated patch of skin. She yearned to fight it; yearned to beat against him, to scream and find the part of herself he was taking. The part she could rely on. 

But she didn't *really* want to. 

Slowly, Dr. Lecter's lips traveled upward, skating over her trembling form. Up her neck, to either side of her eyes, until he was looking at her, breathing raggedly at his own exertions. 

"Dr. Lecter," she whispered, breath quivering as she watched the fireplace lighting align his features. His arms suddenly came to grip her waist, pulling her to him with sharpness. Her hands moved to his arms, initially to push him away, but she couldn't find the strength. 

How could she escape? Ask him to stop? No…he might kill her for that, for going back on her word. His eyes traced hers, ablaze with something unspeakable. Desperately, she forced those thoughts away, not wanting to consider, lest she change her mind. 

What could she say in place of stop? The word tumbled from her mouth, intention plain. "Please…" 

In the minute that followed, she wondered if he understood the nature of her statement, then remembered exactly whom she was dealing with. This man misconstrued nothing – there were just some requests he chose to ignore. 

Even if they came from her. 

Before she could breathe another word, he sealed the space between them, hungry mouth drinking her in. At first, she was motionless, not able to do anything but sit there and take it. However, once Starling felt herself respond, she knew she was unable to do anything to stop him. The feel of his lips on hers promptly drained all fight from her, all reason to dispute. With the taste of him in her mouth, she experienced a rush of heat to hear him moan into her. A moan she provoked. 

The hands at his arms went to his face by instinct, pulling him closer to her, savoring the response he gave. What had she done to deserve this? Nothing that she remembered. Yet here she was, being consumed alive by this person, by this man who was supposed to be her enemy, and stopping was the last thing on her mind. 

At least at first. 

Suddenly, the initials of the FBI were with her, flashing her closed eyes. She saw herself, who she was and what she allegedly stood for. Clarice Starling, Special Agent. Not anymore. But could she really forfeit everything her name brought with it? The morals, the ethics, those things she built herself on? 

Her hands left his face immediately, retracting once again to grip his forearms as she cried out and forcefully pushed him away. Likewise, she fell back, breathing hard as she shook her head. She was a captive, here against her will. Despite everything, she couldn't forget that. 

Nor could she forget whom she was with. 

Trembling, her eyes met Dr. Lecter's, fiery once more. He would have let her, too. Let her ruin herself all for him. And she was close. So close. The taste of him was still in her mouth. It ran bittersweet. 

When she parted her lips to speak, she recognized her familiar tone, the anger in her voice. "Dr. Lecter…" she breathed harshly. "What have you done to me? What *would* you do to me if I let you?" The vindication on her voice was both tormenting and empty. It was hard to know what she meant by it, even for her. 

Nothing but a gaze in response. His breathing leveled again, his control reclaimed. Eyes still cold, Starling fought to her feet. She exerted another breath, then turned and left him in the darkness. 

It wasn't until she was gone that Dr. Lecter uttered his reply. "Hmm…likewise, Clarice, likewise." 

Similarly, what he referred to remained safely indefinite. 

* * *


	9. Reconciliation

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

For a long time, Starling stood in front of the mirror, studying herself though unsure what she was looking at.Three months before, she was told the only needed reassurance of her courage and incorruptibility was what she saw in her reflection.Looking at herself now, the hard, confused emotions flickering in her eyes, she was startled at what she saw.Confirmation that she was crumpling.

_Goddamn him!_

_ _

Indeed, she saw the person built on ethics, the person she strived to be, the person she was no longer.Starling supposed that no matter what happened now, she would always see the FBI agent, the image of perfection she conjured, perhaps in ignorance.A reflect of coldness overtook her.He did this to her as the bad omen of her career.Every time she encountered him, she suffered, despite her success.Bits of her chipping away with no regard for what *she* wanted, how *she* felt about it.And he knew it, but he did it anyway.He insisted on hurting her over and over again to make her doubt herself and her durability.

It only frustrated her further to acknowledge the most painful transformations were those provoked from the truth.

Where was her promised reminder, her blessed reassurance?Standing before the mirror, Starling saw it, reached for it, and watched helplessly as it drifted further from her grasp.

If she didn't capture it soon, it would be too late.

Emitting a shuddering breath, Starling tore her eyes from her image.She refused to watch it anymore, watch the deconstruction of her values as she stood here, unable to do anything to stop it, unsure if she would, should the authority rest in her hands.

All this after only two days?Just how strong *were* those values, anyway?Not strong enough to put up much of a fight before crashing.Starling snapped her eyes shut as she forced herself away from the mirror and slipped into bed, overwhelmed with emotion but unable to cry.

How does one mourn something that will not be missed?

When she awoke the next morning, Starling feared what she saw in the mirror would be more than out of reach.It would have vanished completely, left unguarded in the night hours and given ample time to make its escape.

If only she could be so lucky.

_What then? _She asked herself as she drifted to sleep, grasping the silence as her only peace.

She preferred not to think about it.

***

He waited in the doorway until he was sure she was asleep, observant and still as though studying a play.The wonderful show of her agonized emotions both excited and nearly broke him to watch, and he found himself curiously hopeful.She was close, very close, but he did not wish to unearth her to the brink of mental instability.This was hard for her, he knew.It was difficult for him, as well.

That thought should have been disconcerting, but it was not.Dr. Lecter had known for a while the affect she had on him, which was why he tolerated her minor disobediences, why he continuously granted his forgiveness, whether or not she asked for it.

She knew how to test him, though.Pushing him to that next level, regardless if she was aware of it.There were other things, too.Other things he knew.

The museum.

When Starling had emerged from the ladies room, he smelled the lipstick on her instantly and likewise noted she had applied none.It wasn't difficult to put together, nor unexpected.He was genuinely shocked when she refrained from kicking and screaming in the eyes of the public, and knew she was, too.Her moods varied now, torn successfully amongst duty, obligation, and desire.

Those at the Bureau had scarred her deeply, but not enough to account for her complete loss of faith.By studying her rapid mood changes, he understood that she was compelled to follow whatever emotion grasped her.Therefore, the museum incident was forgiven.It wasn't as discouraging as her outburst in the dining room.

That made him flinch, even after the events that transpired over the past hour.His reaction unnerved him, that breech in control, the marks he inflicted to her body.Though her displacement was aggravating, he made himself understand, given the situation.

He was sure his actions hurt himself much more than it occurred to her to mind.Knowing he was that close to utter loss of control, what he *could* have done, even with one hand recovering a self-inflicted wound…he was not used to being scared of himself, of his own merciless capabilities.

Nor was he accustomed to being so easily provoked.

The element of self-resent made him feel too human.

The urge to heal was great within him, too momentous to ignore.As though he were unaware of his actions, Dr. Lecter pushed the door fully open.When she didn't stir, he stepped in, eyes wandering over her sleeping form in a moment of appreciation.Starling held nothing back, unless she was trying to get something for herself or one of those puppet masters.Even in her sleep, he saw her troubles, her anxiety and fears.Dr. Lecter's eyes absorbed her, blinking like a camera taking a picture.

Slowly, he approached the slumbering Starling, stilled moments tugging at the boundaries of his patience.He watched her obsessively, eyes prodding her every curve, feature, fiber of her being.The temptation was on him to engulf her now, to finish what started in the parlor, to condemn all prior convictions and restraints.But no, he left her to her sleep, to the withering bloom of her prior loyalty.There would be another time, despite how much that was constricted by the message left for those presumably to save her.

That didn't concern him.If they came, they came.Escaping was simple; he'd done it often enough.Escaping with her was a whole separate issue.When the time came – if the time came – he would give her a choice, and they would go from there.

Should she still want her freedom, he would grant it, and never again target her as a tangible objective he could easily obtain.He would leave her to herself, though hope from afar that she come to regret her decision.

Slowly, Dr. Lecter extended his right hand and brushed a lock of hair from her face.As she did that night at her house, she twitched slightly but did not awake.Smiling, he knelt forward and held his lips to her forehead.

"Sleep well, Clarice," he whispered.

When he was gone, Starling's eyes opened alertly but she didn't move.Sighing after a minute, she flexed beneath the blankets as sleep overcame her again.

"Good night, Doctor," she whispered, almost unaware that she spoke.

Her words tumbled into silence as she drifted back to dreamland.

***

When the janitorial staff entered the rest rooms of the Xu Beihong Museum early the next morning, they had trouble reading the message and opted first to wash it out.However, the urgency, even in a foreign language, was easily depicted, and it was decided to report it to the museum director.

By 10:00 AM, the FBI officials stationed in Beijing were alerted to the message.It was decided to search the coastline of China for as far as three hundred miles in either direction.Luckily, they had Starling's notes with them, and had a pretty good idea what to look for.

***

In the early morning, the sound of the waves crashing along the shoreline was commonly the only thing heard throughout the manor.The house itself wasn't used to holding more than one occupant, and despite the hour, usually stood in silence.Occasionally Dr. Lecter played orchestral selections or one of the Florentine operas that he missed so very much, but even then, it was as if no one lived there at all.

Thus, over the past few days, having an occupant such as Starling who was neither quiet nor strived to be, gave the atmosphere a sense of realism and humanity.She awoke rather early to a headache, as well as a general fear of facing the master of the house.The events that accumulated the night before made her head spin, and she feared the loss of something more significant than word when the inevitable encounter occurred.

Dispirited, Starling raced to the mirror to grasp what she had seen the night before, what was out of her reach.When she expected it to be gone, she emanated a relieved sigh.No, it was still there, but growing more and more distant with each passing second.She didn't know how much longer she could hold onto it, reach for it, and furthermore, if she even wanted to.

The temperature became uncomfortably warm, so she stripped the pajama bottoms; reaching instead for the large and comfortable robe she had enjoyed the morning before.Just the previous morning, and so much had changed.

Starling wondered, offhandedly, if anyone reported that message she left in the museum bathroom.At the thought, something flustered within her, causing a sharp pain to attack her head.Shaking it off, she moved hesitantly for the door and paused to listen.No movement from the other side, though she knew if he were awake, he wouldn't make a sound. Avoiding this would do her little good, only build her anxiety until they ultimately did meet face-to-face today, and most likely give her an early heart attack.Releasing a quivering breath, she boldly pulled the door back, allowing a wave of fresh air to strike her.

The pleasant smells she enjoyed the morning before were nonexistent today.Starling looked cautiously from right to left before allowing her eyes to fall on his chamber door.Something within her sank.It was closed.

What had he said the night of her abduction?That seemed so long ago, but hardly a week had passed.

("For reasons of your convenience, I'll leave the door open.")

The message was clear.Dr. Lecter did not intend to make anything convenient for her.After what she did and said last night, it was just.Not only in his standards of ethics, but in hers as well.

("You can't hold me here prisoner and *force* me to love you!")

Ouch.That hurt *her* to remember.

And the afterward?What of that?

("Dr. Lecter…what have you done to me? What *would* you do to me if I let you?")

Did she really want to know?

Discouraged more than she wanted to admit at the lack of hospitality – however much deserved – displayed by his closed door, Starling loosened the sash on her robe to let the air hit her again.The affect was more or less disappointing.With a sigh, she turned and walked down the hallway at a slow, unhurried speed.

Starling stopped in the kitchen to rummage, but remembered she wasn't hungry.Knowing it was unwise to eat out of habit rather than need, she decided to get some fresh air.It had been years beyond her recollection since she sat on a beach simply to intake its beauty.Always was there some job to do, something that stood in the way of pleasure.Perhaps it would help her clear her head.

Quietly, she slipped outside.Once gone, the house slipped back from normality, and stood as though vacant.

***

In the quiet of his chamber, Dr. Lecter listened intently as Starling's door opened.He had lied awake for several hours; sleep never coming easy for him.The events of the night before didn't really affect this, though he had dwelled.

Hearing Starling move about in the house made him smile.It was good to liven up the place.

When he heard the back door open and shut, he slowly rose from the berth, traveled to the window and delicately pulled back the curtain.His eyes flickered over her as she went toward the water.By the subtle though quick movements she made, he could tell her nerves were commanding her.Facing him this morning was not something she looked forward to, but he knew avoiding it would do neither of them any good.

He dressed in a white button-down shirt and casual slacks, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, should he be indisposed.

Downstairs, he poured her a cup of coffee.He hoped it was a suitable icebreaker.

***

Starling sat a comfortable distance from the waves, not wanting to ruin an addition of Dr. Lecter's nice wardrobe.Besides, she really liked the negligee.It was large enough to require no clothing underneath, though she hardly felt it appropriate to go around so bare.Her upbringing had been rather modest, or primitive, as he said the day before.

It really was nice out here.

"Good morning, Clarice," she heard from behind.Starling's heart abruptly stopped.Of course, she wouldn't have heard him approach.That element of surprise was something he reveled in, despite the conditions."Mind if I join you?I brought you coffee."

Slowly, she exerted a breath and made her way to her feet.When she summoned enough courage to turn around, their eyes met and held.For a minute, she doubted she could do this, but knew somewhere she had to.

"Thank you," Starling replied, making no effort to reach for his offering.

Dr. Lecter extended the cup to her before stepping forward.Then they were side by side, a comfortable foot or so apart, looking together at the ocean."It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" he commented after a minute."I told you the mornings were quite lovely."

The casual air in his voice was irritating."You've said a lot of things," she replied, taking a sip of her coffee.

Warmth filled her.

"Yes…I suppose I have."

Another beat of silence.Starling considered throwing the cup down and racing inside, yet thought the better of it.What should happen if he chased her?If she was captured?

An inconclusive sigh escaped the man next to her."We've certainly made a mess of things, haven't we?"

Ah, they *were* going to discuss last night, after all.

The reply she came up with startled her, but it rolled off her tongue with ease before she stopped to consider."As people, we can't do any better."That sounded near philosophical."We make our own beds hard to lie on."

"Well said, Clarice.And too well true."He offered the ocean a small smile, though she suspected it was directed at her.

Starling drank in more of her coffee, registering how furiously her heart pounded.The temptation was upon her again to run inside, but she knew she couldn't, for reasons other than the fear of capture.She spent her life running from problems, or working around them.Now embracing the consequences of her actions, she knew the best thing to do was to stand here and take it, no matter how dizzy it made her.

There was always something else. 

When she spoke again, she didn't realize it.The words that tumbled from her mouth were reflective and redundant to her ears; she had toyed with them so often over the past few days.But Dr. Lecter listened intently, as Starling knew he always would."When Pearsall gave me this assignment, I fought him.I didn't want to come out here and see you again.Not after the lake house.But he did it anyway, despite my reasoning and requests.Even though they had to know on some level what they were doing to me, asking of me."Tears glinted in her eyes.What followed would be difficult to say, but she needed to speak it, feel it.To hear it in the open rather than in her head, to make it tangible, something she could hold.For release, for freedom, for final verification."They wanted me to kill you…they didn't come out and *say* it, but you're no good to anyone alive back there.What would be the point of that?We had you for eight years but you never cracked.But I made sure…" She drew in a breath, hating the sound of her emotion on her voice.Stop?No…she had to get it out, if only for herself."I made sure that wouldn't happen.I wasn't going to let them kill you, even though I knew what awaited you back home.Even when I was doing my job…when I was supposed to do *something* other than what I did."Her knees buckled and she fought for balance."Even when I was supposed to…but I can't!I can't!"At last, she fell, her legs hitting the sand harshly.The last remark released coincided with her tears, coming out rather as 'ca-ha-hant.'Starling collapsed, burying her face in her hands, wishing herself away, far away, anywhere but here.

The sound of her cries muffled Dr. Lecter's sigh.He knelt to her and took her in his embrace, comforting, wanting to reassure her but knowing words were unneeded.When he felt her hug him back tightly in response, crying into his shoulder, it changed.Everything changed.There was no going back.

Slowly, Dr. Lecter pulled away to study her face, still stained with tears.In her eyes, he reflected her sadness and grief, things he partially caused, things provoked by all she had endured.The urge to heal that birthed the night before was with him again, alien almost as he was so accustomed to destruction, not preservation.But seeing her like this and let her demolish herself, the person he admired so much…going about helping her was beyond him.He did only what he knew to do.

Starling sensed the change of mood and retracted, grasping his wrists but not to push him away.Smiling softly, his hands coming to her face, thumb flickering over a tear.Slowly, he neared, lips brushing her temple, then the other, then her cheek, before finally he was presented with her mouth.

The grip on his wrists tightened as he was pushed away, much like the night before.Starling fought to her feet.

"No…no!Damn you!No more!"

Then she was running, hard, fast, and away from him.It wasn't planned to run after her, more or less impulse of the moment, what was natural.

Whether calling her name out was intended or not, neither of them knew.

It didn't take much to catch her.Should she have wanted to, outrunning him would have not been too difficult.He took this as a good sign.Masterfully grasping her arm, Dr. Lecter whirled her to face him.Both breathing hard, they simultaneously went to their knees again; not out of exhaust, but something else.

The hold on his arms was welcoming, inviting.Starling knew she couldn't escape now, and was doubtful that she would, should she be so inclined.

The approach to her mouth was hesitant, almost willing her to run again.Starling expelled a moan of release, of gratitude, of everything she couldn't express.Again, the FBI image flashed before her, yet it had little affect.She was trapped, trapped but freed. Unconstrained finally from all those things she talked about, everything that brought her here.

With the feel of his lips over hers, she knew it was hopeless.Starling's hands skated up his arms to grasp his collar, to pull him into her.When he encircled her waist, she lost balance and fell backward, glad when he did the same.

His lips left hers to explore the rest of her, uninhibited, as though he expected her to thrash beneath him, to break and again push him away.They were both surprised when she didn't.

It was easy to surprise each other, for no one else could.

***

Starling felt she was falling, tumbling between the boundaries of time, space, and reasoning.How she came to be here from the beach, she didn't know, or think to know.There was movement against her, movement she responded to, best she knew.Her strength felt drained, drained and strangely rekindled.

Then she knew.The feel of him was exquisite, coursing through her like nothing she had ever known before.Slowly, delicately, cautious for fear she would still break.

The light coming from the windows…those were his windows.Those moans escaping her, shuddering through her…they were real, too.She was really here, responding to him with everything he gave, not thinking twice.

Dr. Lecter studied her with the most infatuated gaze, taking his time, slowing to the point of tormenting himself.But he felt no need to rush.Watching her writhe from the pleasure he gave, to call out for him and no other, willed him to take in every bit of her.Every sight, scent, sound she released, he claimed for his own.

His qualities were hers, too.

Their kisses were long but frantic, offsetting everything else.Time was against them.They made due as if these were only moments they would have, now or ever.

But when Dr. Lecter did pull away, his hands went again to her face, to look at her, to study her reaction.Starling opened her eyes after a minute, thrill evident behind them.When she smiled at him, a whole smile, unlike any he had ever delivered or received in his being, he knew it was over.It was over, yet neither of them won.

To see her smile at him like that nearly made him shiver.

Dr. Lecter smiled back at her, nothing victorious or triumphant, more in gratitude and relief.

When he kissed her again, Starling expelled a moan, the room beginning to spin.To her, it didn't matter how long they stayed like, preferably forever.Outside loomed reality, what she would eventually have to face, and everything in between.

Not now, though.Now they were together, and this time was theirs.

***


	10. The Afterward

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

They lay awake for a while talking.The light in the room dimmed, though Dr. Lecter made no attempt to ignite any candles.Unlike before, the darkness was comfortable, almost compassionate.

Reality, or the guise of reality, was nonexistent.Whether or not it was hidden in the darkness didn't matter, or really change anything.Starling supposed it wouldn't hit until she left this room, the comfort of his arms, anything that suggested who she really was, who she was supposed to be.

Which reminded her…

Slowly, Starling sat up, untangling herself from his embrace and traveled across the room to study her reflection in the mirror.Dr. Lecter allowed this without complaint, regarding her curiously.Neither surprised nor alarmed when she failed to see what she had tried to reclaim for herself, Starling released a conclusive breath, straightening once more.

"I thought so…" she whispered.The air chilled her bare skin, and she quickly returned to bed, not caring to see – or not see – what the mirror held any longer.

Starling nestled luxuriously in the warmth of his arms, the thought of sleep tempting her.The soft caresses offered to her shoulder seemed to trigger unexpected fatigue.Closing her eyes, she wondered how long this could last before she came back to herself.Before she looked in the mirror and again saw Special Agent Starling.Was an hour enough?

That thought bothered her.Whatever this was, she didn't want to leave it.Didn't want to sacrifice it for what was presumably right.But something within her told her their time together was nearing an end, and furthermore, that she caused it.Her breathing became subtle and quivered a bit, cold once more though she was protected with blankets and his embrace.

"See something interesting?" Dr. Lecter asked.With her head at his chest, she smiled in the way his voice echoed against her ear.

"I was looking for an agent.I saw her there last night, but figured she'd be gone by now," Starling answered tiredly."Though I expect her back soon."

There was a moment's pause."Hmm…" he replied."I wondered if she would make her way back here.You're free to tell her to leave, you know.Under recent circumstances, I don't think it would be a sign of ill hospitality."

She expelled an appreciative chuckle."I'm sure you wouldn't."

This time, he sighed, giving her shoulder a squeeze."Not that simple, I know.I doubt I could successfully exorcise those tedious loyalties and two-cent ethics from you in three days' time."

"Ten years, three months and three days to be exact…or something to that affect…"

He laughed, a sincere, good laugh that made her feel warmer than was normal.Hell, what had she done today that had been normal?

"Who's counting?" he inquired.

"Not I."

"Thought not."

A minute or so passed before she spoke again, drifting on the boundaries of sleep."Dr. Lecter?"

That provoked another chortle."Dr. Lecter?That's terribly formal, wouldn't you say?"

Coaxed slightly from her weariness, Starling smiled to herself."One would assume."

"Hmm…" The strokes at her shoulder resumed, softer now, as though compelled to coincide with the mood."It will be ending, then, and we will be back to formalities.Tell me, Clarice…when do you expect them?"

Starling froze, likewise did the pressure at her skin.With a quivering breath, she lifted her head to gaze at him.In his eyes, she reflected the same intent stare he issued her so many years ago.It nearly made her shudder, seeing this person she had known so long, gazing at her the same way after the afternoon they shared.

It was also admirable.She knew, simply by looking at him, that no matter how their relationship changed, he would remain the same.Such could not be said for other men, those shallow and unworthy of her attention.Whether he was reclined on a heap of top-quality pillows, or in the dungeon of a cryptic Baltimore asylum, Dr. Lecter would always be the same.There was nothing neither she nor anyone alive could do to change that.

Still, his words hung in the air, born free and reeking of recognition, of knowledge.Of course he knew.She was foolish to assume anything could be wheedled passed him.

She was foolish for other reasons, too.

"I don't know if they're coming or not," she answered with a defeated sigh, knowing it was useless to deny anything.It was coming back to her, now.The feeling of being read, no matter how she tried to elude him.Ugly realism.Ugly life.Ugly knowledge.She considered apologizing for her efforts, but knew somewhere that it was already forgiven.His failure to mention it until now, when they were both steadily aware of the ticking clock, served as evidence.

She looked away, amidst her shame, but knowing not where it was directed.

Studying her for a minute, Dr. Lecter sat up, reaching for her face.Once he had a suitable grip on her chin, he forced her to eye contact."Do you want them here, Clarice?Do you want to be rescued from me?Your dangerous captor?What of the world that lies at your feet?Back to tedious paperwork and dictation?You said already that you're planning to resign.I know you better than that.It's easy to say things, to make promises with the intention of keeping them.At home, though, when you're surrounded with familiarity, do you feasibly see yourself handing over your badge and gun?You know they'll just send you after me again, should I get away."

His words hurt and stank of truth.Did she really see herself strong enough to turn over her life and start anew, even with what had occurred here?And she knew he was right.They *would* just send her after him again.If she couldn't do it before, there was no way she would even come close now.Not after everything that had passed.

But that wasn't his question.He wanted to know if she wanted them here, those claiming to be her colleagues, only to drag her away and attempt to put him behind bars, or better yet, kill him altogether.

The answer, of course, was no.Not when this gave her such peace.

Peace.Hah.Oxymoron.

"Well…" she started to say."I couldn't really hand over my guns, could I?You took them from me."

A small smile was her immediate reply."That I did," he answered a second later."But that doesn't answer my question.Tell me, Clarice.Do you want them here?Do you want to be taken from me now?"The hold on her chin relinquished, as it was no longer needed.Their gaze held.

_And admit I like this?I don't think so, buddy._

_ _

Damn her loyalty!After everything that morning gave her, the revelations she made within herself, Starling felt still incapable of vocalizing her release, her pleasure.The dead agent within her stirred.

No remorse, still.She wondered if she would ever feel guilt for her treacherous actions, for her unwillingness to fight him.Escaping her fate that morning would have been easy had she wanted to.But Starling realized she was no more capable of fighting him than she was shooting him.If there was ever a time she could, it was gone now.Gone, and out of her reach forever.

"You told me at the lake house that the only thing I needed to be reminded of my courage and incorruptibility was a mirror," she said after a minute, bluntly ignoring the question again.No matter.This held his curiosity."You were right for a while.Too right."Starling expelled a small sigh."Not anymore.I am without courage, and it's obvious I've been corrupted."She looked away, as though defeated.

The response she received made her gasp in surprise.Abruptly, Dr. Lecter seized her shoulders and gave her one single shake."Look at me," he demanded, and she did, feeling boneless and incapable of any other motion."You are never without your courage, Clarice.You have embraced the unknown, what is beyond your expectations; stepped away from that predictable escapade you call your life.Life is not supposed to be predictable.You deserve more, far more than what they offer.More, even, than what I can give.I never want to hear you say you're without courage again.You're a warrior, first, foremost, and always.With or without the Bureau."The look in his eyes suggested fire, his tone on the brink of anger.

Slowly, as though afraid of the consequences her audacity might purchase, Starling reached for his face, running the tips of her fingers over his lips.When the touch was tolerated, she leaned forward to replace it with her mouth.The hold on her arms fell, as though deactivated by the sensation.Instead, he engulfed her, pulling her to him tightly.As his lips left hers to explore the rest of her, to taste her as though for the first time, she rested her head in the crook of his neck, not wanting to rise above a whisper, lest he pull away."No…no, I don't want them here."

His response was eager, the grip around her tightening.The feel of his lips on the back of her neck, shoulder, anywhere he could access without pulling her from him was sensational.

Never!She didn't care what reality awaited her outside.If necessary, she would bolt the door shut.It wasn't worth losing this.Feeling found after so many years of wandering in her displacement.

There was a reluctant pause when Dr. Lecter pulled away.His eyes were alight, signifying his need for a reprise.All he need was ask.However, he instead used his grip on her to lower her to the mattress.The implication was not intimate, though it did make her shudder with the thought of his consideration.

The subtle caresses she had enjoyed while reclining on his chest returned, now at her face.Dr. Lecter was on his side, propped on one arm, studying her."Rest now, Clarice.You are due your sleep."

"Will you sleep, too?"

"No."He smiled slightly, leaning forward to brush a kiss beside her eye."I fear waking not to find you here.Should I be dreaming, I prefer to prolong it to the best of my ability."

The words sent something through her that she could not identify.His eyes reflected his honesty, an aspect of him she knew she would always have.After a minute, Starling smiled."If you're dreaming, then I must be, too."

"Are you saying I've haunted your nightly scenarios, Agent Starling?"Hint of play was on his voice, though his eyes betrayed nothing.

Starling smiled sadly, wanting to give him the answer he wanted.But in truth, never before being here had she considered him in this way, never had she allowed it.Most people would claim one had no direction over their dreams, but she made damn sure that he stayed out of hers.Though she thought of him often, it was more nightmares of the hellish outcome from the lake house."Haunted is closer to the mark than you want to be," she replied.

A frown."I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be.I'm not.Not anymore."

The frown dissolved on cue, replaced again with a grim smile.A knowing smile.In the hallway, the ticking of the clock persisted.

_Is this goodbye? _She wondered._It sure feels like it._

_ _

"Sleep, Clarice."

But Starling didn't want to sleep.She wanted to savor these moments.If they were their last, she certainly didn't want to sleep through them.

However, physical need overflowed her minds objective.And as Dr. Lecter wavered a hand over her face to encourage her eyes to shut, she felt herself drifting toward the infinite, and off to sleep.

***

Starling awoke to a delicate pat on her shoulder.It wasn't a prolonged wakening.Within two seconds, she was alert and ready, needing no time for recollection.Sitting up, she didn't think to clutch the sheets to her, a lack of modesty and the need for it recognized.

Dr. Lecter would not encourage her rest only to disrupt it for no reason.Though her sleep was peaceful, Starling did not mourn being drawn from it.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I must be leaving, Clarice," he replied simplistically.Running her eyes over him, she felt something fall within her as she noted his completely dressed form, the whimsical, single suitcase in hand.Though she knew it was not by choice, something relative to abandonment filled her.He drew in a breath and continued."Hear it?The sound of an approaching chopper?Your heroes are slightly tardy on their white stallions, but they do love to make an entrance."

She heard nothing, but did not question him.There was still a while to go before her five senses perfected to his astute level.

"Why aren't I going with you?You did promise me Rome, you know."

She hoped that would make him smile in recollection, but instead it provoked a sigh.An eerie feeling settled over her.This wave of newfound seriousness was constrictive, familiar, and she didn't like it."There are several reasons.Look in the mirror again before they arrive.I trust you'll see your agent friend, back, as we said before.If I'm right, then it's best to give you this time away from my influence to decide what you really want.I don't want you to grow to resent me, my little Starling.This time together will fulfill me, should you decide to return to what you know.Otherwise…" Dr. Lecter reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a relatively thin envelope."This contains directions, indications, and what-have-you.If you decide against this, I ask you burn it, if only out of courtesy.I trust you; it's them I worry about.

"Secondly, I could not take you with me, even if it was my intention.They will be combing the country for us, parading the airports, and generally make a big fuss over nothing.Getting away unaided does not concern me.Having you tag along complicates the matter.There is no feasible way we could escape together."He sighed again."I advise you wash the sheets, and chain yourself to something, show some exhibit of imprisonment.Your guns and handcuffs are downstairs in a nook of my personal library, behind Dante's Inferno.Your car keys are there as well."

Starling blinked."How are you going to—"

"I do have another vehicle, Clarice.Rather large and obnoxious, but it will serve in diverging attention."Dr. Lecter stood in silence for a minute, head poised as though listening for something."Ah.Not wasting a minute…" he said, more to himself.Looking back to her, he offered a small smile."Don't forget what I said.Not just now.If ever in doubt, rely on your courage and refer to your incorruptibility.Remember how it feels, the flavor that runs in your mouth.Should you face yourself as an agent and walk away, then you'll know to come for me."Slowly, he knelt to kiss her, though the taste was brief."Regret nothing…" he said as he pulled away."Here, we were outside of time and reality, everything that held us to their tedious morality.I take that with me.Even if you decline to pursue, I hope apart of you carries it, too."

Then, as masterfully as anything she had ever seen, though the initial movement was brief, Starling watched as Dr. Lecter moved hastily from her side, turning to the doorway and placing a top-hat over his head.It almost provoked a laugh, seeing him the epitome of the stereotypical 1950s sitcom.Still, even on the brink of uncharacteristic, it made him appear no less refined.The definition of good taste.

"Goodbye, Clarice."He closed the door.

Something significant left with him.It was apart of her.Starling stared at the blank frame for a few cold minutes, the envelope in her grasp rubbing tightly against her fingers.She fought the urge to lay back and again allow sleep claim her, to drift away from this perverse twist of her life.

What was there now?

Sighing, she forced herself to her feet and glanced to the mirror.Did she really want to see herself now?She had to.Not bothering in prolonged, over-dramatic steps, Starling paraded to her reflection and gazed inside.

Another sigh coursed her lips as she turned again to the closed frame.Standing upright, she nodded her recognition.

"Goodbye, Hannibal," she whispered.

***


	11. Rescued

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Though she had only been a guest for a few days, Starling felt she knew her way around the manor like she had lived there all her life.Thus, in the darkness, she was compelled to leave the lights off; perhaps partly in hope her rescuers would discourage at a seemingly vacant house and pass it over.

Knowing them, that wasn't entirely implausible.

As per suggestion, Starling made all the necessary precautions, knowing her time wasn't truly constricted until she heard the chopper herself.She stripped his bed clean and threw the sheets into the washer before remaking it nicely.The car keys, handcuffs and her three backup weapons were found behind Dante's Inferno, as he promised.Studying her weapons precariously, Starling noted how different they felt in her hands.Heavy, clumsy…like she had no place holding them at all.

Ten years as an agent, even longer as a gun-smart individual, and three days with a cannibalistic genius could take her training away from her.

A chilling thought raced through her.Could she do this?Could she look at these men as they plowed inward to save her from a fate worse than death, cry and make her case and encourage them to hunt down the man that cradled her so intimately just a few hours before?

The smell of him was still with her, on her, marking her.She wondered briefly if she needed to shower, but knew there was no time.It didn't matter.No one would doubt Dr. Lecter to get close enough to her to leave the impression of him on her skin.Starling wondered how she might go by what followed in preservation of both their names.After all, it was wide knowledge, at least within the Bureau, that Dr. Lecter was a gentleman who abolished the rude, usually by consuming them.To force himself on her without her consent would most likely provoke him to eat his own hand.And no one would believe she allowed him to touch her, to kiss her, to be with her, even she if told them herself.In the eyes of the Bureau, of the world, she was a cold fish.

There would be the rumors, the assumptions, the nasty side-comments from those who associate with the likes of Paul Krendler, but that didn't concern her.It wasn't unlike anything she had tolerated for well over a decade.

But *could* she do it?Go back to them?In gazing at her reflection, Starling saw the person Dr. Lecter indicated, the agent within her.The person she spent most of her adult life striving to be.Now she had her freedom.Freedom.Surpassing the urge to snort, she noted it tasted in her mouth as trade had back at the lake house.Cheap and metallic…indeed like sucking on a greasy coin.

Was that because of what she had done, or because this wasn't freedom at all?

Okay, she knew if it was her choice, she could go back to them.In the end, it wasn't altogether too difficult.As Dr. Lecter said, here they were outside the boundaries of time and reality.She could reflect on this as a dream if she cared to, push it out of her mind as something that never happened, couldn't possibly, and attempt to live a happy and fulfilled life on her own accord.

But she would always know.

Even so, would they allow her to return peacefully?Yes, there would be that sympathy factor, that tidbit she could always use against them.She could scream neglect, pound her fists on closed doors and demand compensation for what she lost.After all, she just spent three days with the devil himself, and lived to tell about it.What kind of permanent scars might she fake, might she use against them for putting her out here in the first place?For making her lose everything she built herself to be, all for one perfect day in the arms of her enemy.

How long before they sent her after him again?How long before she let them?

Indefinitely.Starling knew they would be remorseful, would shake their heads in sorrow and offer a thousand apologies.But sooner or later, when they grew restless, Pearsall would call her into his office and give her 'the speech.'The reason she needed to be sent out there, to the void, as Dr. Lecter's weakness.As long as the FBI had grasp of her, they would use her to get to him.Until they had him, of course, and then she would be discarded and ultimately forgotten.Another sob story.Boo hoo.So sad.Agent Starling's career to a final end at last.

And when they stopped using her…what then?Back to the messy assignments, cases no one else wanted and thought best to stick her with.Paperwork.Tedious, very tedious.

Looking again to her guns and car keys, she pursed her lips in thought.Traveling to the kitchen, she decided the best place for them was in the cookie jar.It was whimsical and humdrum but no one would doubt he placed them there.After this, anyone would have to be of unsound mind to question her knowledge on the doctor.

Left with the handcuffs and the envelope with his instructions, Starling sighed in genuine wonderment.What now?Her eyes flickered to the fireplace, knowing the best thing she could do for either of them was forget any of this ever happened.She couldn't be of any real use to him.The reward for ten years of coveting, but what beyond that? If anything, she would hold him back, get them captured, herself imprisoned and him in the hands of his tormentors.

Should it come down to that, her occupational sacrifice at the Muskrat Farm was in vain.

The envelope, thick and weightless as a feather, burdened her hand with the power of a thousand stones.Fireplace or purse?Lighter or knapsack?She could tear it into tiny pieces, *then* throw it into the inferno.Look at it first?No.To know where he was endangered her conviction, and his safety.

But could she live *not* knowing?

Time ran short.Starling made her decision and acted upon it.Hurriedly, she dressed in jeans and her white tank top.She didn't bother with a bra, though did slip into underwear, just to elude any suspicion or accusations.Though it felt odd, defending Dr. Lecter's honor while neither of them were innocent, but this hardly hampered her need to do so.Clothed now in the garments, however whimsical, he provided, she was satisfied to have at least some souvenir.Proof of her stay marked on her neck and her stomach.She was glad the imprints of his hands neglected to wither and die to time.It would serve as some convincing that she was held here every minute against her will.

That was almost the truth.Almost wasn't good enough.

Starling lastly took the cuffs and snapped one around her wrist.A grimace splayed on her face, remembering how tight and uncomfortable they made her shoulders.However, no one would believe Dr. Lecter just up and left without restraining her.She almost wished he had.Falling to the ground, she twisted her other arm behind her and battled with gravity until both hands were cuffed.

The flash of police cars and the howl of sirens disturbed both the darkness of the manor as well as the companionable silence.In the brief light allowed, Starling stretched her neck to take one last look around.This place she came to originally as a hostage, leaving as a marked FBI agent, to return to her dreary world of politics.All the while, Hannibal Lecter, renowned lethal madman, not only took care of her during her stay, he let her go.

Why?

Back to mind-numbing questioning.Booooooorrrrriiiiinnnnggg. 

Starling refused to think of the higher reasons.That meant crediting Dr. Lecter with an emotional quality that she thought impossible for him to possess.Even after the tender way he held her that afternoon, the reassuring of her courage and bravado, after every little this and that…

Emitting a deep sigh, Starling's head fell back to the carpet.Somehow, the flash of lights made her fatigue return, double the impact.

The weight of her decision was still with her.She knew she had to consider it from all angles before any rational sense could be obtained.In declining Dr. Lecter's offer, she was freeing herself from him forever, from being pursued.Though Starling doubted reliability in the Bureau not to send her after him, she knew he wouldn't let her see him if she came armed and with a badge.

Even so, Starling doubted she could accept the case.A more decent fight could win her side over.

But could she *live* with it?Knowing that while her decision freed them both, she would fight for the rest of her life to find some of the happiness she had here, even in those few hours they were allowed?What happened to that girl, the one who told him in truth that she didn't want any interruption, wanted to be with him as long as time permitted?Did the mirror take all that away?

Starling didn't want to think what this meant for him.She tried to picture him several years down the road, perhaps with a mistress of some sort.That thought made something nasty stir within her, and for a minute, she had the taste of bile in her mouth.While she knew that he was allowed that, that she couldn't expect him to spend the rest of his life mourning her, she likewise knew that it would be impossible for *her* to marry, or even be with anyone else after him.

Surprisingly, that didn't bother her.

Voices now.Odd.She hadn't talked with anyone but Dr. Lecter for three days, and to hear someone speak who wasn't him, particularly to her, gave her an eerie feeling.Nevertheless, she raised her voice and drew in a breath."Here!I'm in here!"The falsity she expected in her tone failed to register.For that, she was relieved.

Outside.Husky, male voices."Agent Starling?"

"IN HERE!"

The flashlights stung her eyes.Flinching, she turned her face from them as two men neared.One of them sounded familiar, though she couldn't place a name.

"Agent Starling?Where is he?"

"Gone!What the fuck took you guys so long?And get me out of these cuffs!"

A pair of gloved hands grasped her wrists and pulled her to her feet.Starling let out a deep breath as she looked from one face to the next, still not finding the name of the one she knew.They simultaneously looked her over, registering her lack of a bra with wide eyes.

"Did he hurt you, Agent Starling?" asked the one she didn't know.

"No.He just fuckin' cuffed me and left.Get these damn things off of me!"

"Did he say where he was going?" the other asked, both pointedly ignoring her request.For the briefest minute, Starling regretted cuffing herself at all.It was all coming back to her now.The searing stretch of her back shoulder blades, the bruises it would ultimately leave her skin.

"Why the hell would he do a dumbass thing like that?He knew ya'll were coming.For the last time…GET THESE GODDAMN CUFFS OFF ME!"

"Where's the key?"

"In the kitchen, I think.If not…get a cleaver.Get something.I will *not* be chained up like some criminal."Starling hoped her eyes reflected the fire her voice authentically portrayed.Never before had she considered herself for acting material, but she thought this performance owed consideration.

The key was found shortly in the cookie jar along with her guns and car keys.Once free, Starling took a genuine minute of relief, rolling her newly liberated shoulders, trying to ignite blood circulation.If she never saw another pair of handcuffs for the rest of her life, it would be too soon.

"Give me a gun," she commanded roughly, "gimme something!"

"Don't we need to check you into a hospital somewhere?"

Starling shook her head, purchasing a hoard of blank stares."Not necessary," she said."I'm not bleeding internally, nor was I hurt."

"You have a mark on your neck," the one she knew observed.

"Ah…except for when I pissed him off…he started to choke me but thought the better of it.I swear to you, I'm fine.I won't be checking into any hospital just to have them tell me that." She turned spontaneously to the man standing next to her, another nameless buffoon, and asked as she armed herself, "Do you guys have a lead on him?"

"What was he driving?"

"I don't have a fucking clue.He used *my* car to drive into town…and you guys let him!God!"

The looks exchanged now were comical, though they made her fists clinch tightly.Though supposedly discreet, the implication was easily read.Oh yes, they remembered her.Now they wondered why they bothered to save her in the first place.

Sighing, Starling pretended to concede defeat. She hoped it wasn't too premature, but continuing this charade only made her queasy.Pretending to be the hard-ass agent was familiar, yes, but overall emphasized how much of a phony she had become over the past few days.And now to return to that world of assignments and politics.Would she find herself in time before Dr. Lecter again?The feeling of not knowing was unpleasant.

"All right…pack everything up.We're going home."

More blank stares.The agent whose name failed her stepped forward."Uhhh…are you sure that's…"

"I don't care what happened," she snapped."I don't care where I've been the past few days.I'm back now, and I'm in charge, and I say it's over.Like hell if I'm going to go after him again."

"Agent Starling…Clint Pearsall—"

Starling's eyes glinted at the name, and immediately the man stopped speaking."Excuse me, but does Pearsall know anything of what's been going on here?Does he know that I was abducted, taken and held for three days against my will?"

"Yes…and he—"

"He thought he'd be lucky if Dr. Lecter did away with me, cause he knows what follows this.Like I said…we're packing it up.Our man's not here anymore, anyway.I'm tired and I'm going home."Emitting a sigh, she motioned for the door."I'm leaving.Conduct your investigation, but I doubt you find anything here.Oh, and I want to find out who owned this place, and if his disappearance was reported."What else would they expect her to say?"Put everything in a report, but I don't want to see it.I want no reminder of this trip, understood?If I hear any snide comments or remarks on the way back—"

The man she knew by face came forward, palms open in a display of peace."You won't, Agent Starling."

Nodding, Starling sighed once more and moved for the door.From behind, she heard a snicker as someone said, in direct deviance to her order: "How the hell did he put up with her for three days?"

Starling decided to ignore that.Right now, her mind was elsewhere.She could smell her tears brimming as she fought the temptation to turn around and intake the look of the house once more.No, she knew that though she would never again find what she had here, what she *did* have was hers.Forever.One more look would neither break nor add to that.

What had Dr. Lecter said before he left?

("Here, we were outside of time and reality, everything that held us to their tedious morality.I take that with me.Even if you decline to pursue, I hope apart of you carries it, too.")

_Decline to pursue…are you sure that's what you want to do?_

_ _

Starling drew in a breath, clamping her teeth harshly on the inside of her cheek to stir attention away from tears.No, she couldn't go after him, and somewhere, he knew that, too.Leaving the place of their sanctuary, she recognized the significance of returning to their separate worlds.He had his life and she had hers.

But they always had today.That afternoon.

Slipping into the helicopter that would take her back to Beijing, Starling drank in the sight of the mansion, recalling the evening she first came here.How dark it looked, how angry she was.It seemed so long ago.Not even a week had passed.A week…and yet she could never be the same person that walked in.

Turning to gaze to her left, Starling's eyes pried the beach.Even from this distance, she could see the imprints their bodies made during that sweet capture.Sighing again, she settled against the seat and closed her eyes.

"Apart of me will always carry it," she whispered, wondering if he could hear her, wherever he might be."The largest part of me."

The pilot turned to her, uncovering his ears to the foray of sound."Did you say something, Agent Starling?" he yelled.

Shaking her head, she motioned to the controls."Get me out of here."

"Yes, ma'am!"

The authorities were still there as she was lifted into the air.Starling's eyes remained with the house as long as it was in sight, and she settled into a short, disturbing sleep when the blaze of lights faded into nothing.

***


	12. Chatting With Pearsall

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

A variety of catch phrases plagued Starling as she stepped off the plane.The glance of Washington she was allowed in the sky left her feeling empty, as though she had unfinished business.Now standing in the terminal, she hoped to discard that, knowing deep inside, however, it was impossible.

_'Home sweet home.'_

_ _

There wasn't anything sweet about this place.

_'There's no place like home.'_

_ _

She could think of at least three.

_'Home is where the heart is.'_

_ _

Hah!Oh wait, that was serious.

Starling shook her head.The days ahead loomed heavily on her shoulders, leaving her to want only to sulk in bed.But no, she couldn't.They wouldn't allow that.And deep down, neither would she.

The time change granted her several hours of daylight, and though work was the last thing on her mind, Starling knew she had to see Pearsall.If she put it off until tomorrow, or whenever he decided to call her in, she would undoubtedly lose what little sanity she had left, as well as half the things she intended to say.

Likewise, Starling felt a reprieve approaching.She wondered how many failed assignments it would take before they finally realized putting her and Dr. Lecter together was not a good idea.

For something that wasn't a good idea, it made her feel warm inside.

Washington.Shaking her head, Starling seized her luggage and started for the door. Perhaps the sight of her Mustang would bring her back to reality.She was in Washington, now, she was home.Whatever investigating continued in Beijing, she was no longer apart of.

Exhaustedly throwing her suitcases into the back, Starling sighed as she fought the urge to collapse on her car.The trunk-latch brushed over her stomach as she shut it, causing her to flinch with initial pain, then again with recollection.Rubbing her right hand over the still-swollen patch of skin, she closed the back finally and moved toward the driver's side.

The familiar air of the Mustang did little to coax her back to who she was.Cursing, Starling slammed her fists on the side of the steering wheel before succumbing at last to the urge to fall forward.Her arms came around the wheel as though to embrace it, and she buried her face in the uncomfortably warm leather, ignoring the rays of sunlight that threaten to burn through her flesh.Muffled sobs for what they were, her cries sounded loud and ridiculous to her, as though she were forcing herself to grieve.But when she couldn't stop, even to pull away and start the ignition all for the tears that blurred her vision, she knew this was not only grief, it was more than that.

Damn morality!Why did he have to be right about everything?Starling finally drew her hand under her eyes to see, glad when the parking lot stood as empty as it had a few minutes before.As she turned the key, her mind unwillingly replayed their last minutes together.What he said, how she had wanted to yell at him and command she go along, but knew beneath the surface that this was the outcome.

If that house was her escape from reality, her only gateway into who she really was, then logic be damned if she didn't fly back to China and buy the place.

In the midst of her diluted thought process, that nearly seemed logical.

As she pulled into a steady line of traffic, Starling fought the temptation to pull off at the exit that would lead her home.The car nearly swerved with her indecision.Instead, she forced herself to maintain a steady pace forward.Before she lost all nerve, before her mind failed to reflect every occurrence of the past few days with painfully sharp accuracy, she had to speak with Pearsall.

The feeling of ordinance she received upon pulling into Quantico made her nauseous.Stepping outside, lest she regurgitate in the car, Starling realized she hadn't eaten in two days.She had declined the food – so called food – offered by the flight attendants, and simply forgot to her last afternoon in China.

Though McDonalds was rather questionable, and rumored to be the local drug purveyors for neighborhood children, Starling made a note to herself to stop there on the way home.

Despite how much she dreaded the meeting to come, she had to admit the look of genuine, unbridled shock in Pearsall's eyes was most enjoyable.She almost cursed herself for not snapping a Polaroid.

_Surprise!You're on candid camera._

_ _

"Starling…" he said slowly, disbelief evident on his voice.

"Hello, Mr. Pearsall.May I speak with you?" Starling, perhaps in habit of the past few days, felt the coldness in her eyes, and heard it clearly in her tone.For the first time, it didn't seem misplaced, or without reason.

"I didn't expect you in today…" he replied, motioning her to close his office door."I heard what happened…I can't tell you how relieved—"

Rolling her eyes, she felt bravado pulsing through her.Again, Dr. Lecter's words were with her, and she fought back the sad smile they provoked.

("If ever in doubt, rely on your courage and refer to your incorruptibility.Remember how it feels, the flavor that runs in your mouth.Should you face yourself as an agent and walk away, then you'll know to come for me.")

"Relieved?" Starling scoffed, planting her hands firmly on her hips, reveling in the feel of the tank top she still wore.There was no extraordinary quality added to the cloth to give her this sensation of warmth.It was the mere knowledge that it was from him.Unlike the dress before it, which she associated with the sight of Paul Krendler's removed crown, she was reluctant to peel this from her shoulders.

In light of her upcoming company, she had managed to fit a bra on before leaving China.

"What else would I be?" Pearsall asked, the mock of innocence that fell over him making her scowl in fury.

"I don't know, Mr. Pearsall.I'm not going to take up much of your time, but I just wanted to drop by and tell you this.I resent the position you put me in, and I will never forget it.Regardless of my request, you gift-wrapped me for Dr. Lecter's disposal," she growled.The words felt good on her tongue, though she was having difficulty concealing her deeper motives.Was she angrier that he did this in the first place, or that she was lost for it?Could she forgive Pearsall for making her come to the realization of her deeper feelings for Dr. Lecter?Certainly.That was the best day of her life, and Starling knew it. To rebut her gratitude, in spite of her anger, for Pearsall's rather unwise career move was as fruitless as Peter's denying of Christ."I want to let you know I'm seriously reconsidering my place in the Bureau.It's obvious my input isn't worth the dirt under my shoe.How much do I have to lose before you people listen to me?"

A few startled minutes of silence passed before her employer could find it within himself to offer a reply."Starling…we did what we had to…"

"You did what was good for *you* without even considering what it would do to me.Had it been Will Graham, you wouldn't have rethought it.Even considered.No one would ever ask him to go after Lecter again.And even if you did have the balls to ask, you wouldn't pressure him to once he denied."Starling's pulse raced in decree with the excited fury of her words."I don't shame in telling you…I am not capable of killing Hannibal Lecter.I could cuff him and bring him in, but what you wanted me to do was kill the enemy.When you're facing people like Evelda Drumgo, you do what you have to do, or you get killed.Lecter won't kill me, therefore I can't kill him.It's as simple as that.I refuse to willingly end anyone's life out of cold blood. And frankly, Mr. Pearsall, I don't give a rat's ass if you understand that or not."

"Starling, we weren't asking you to kill him."

She shook her head, the knowing gaze in his eyes betraying his argument."Oh of course not…but that's what you wanted.To avoid the mess a retrial would bring.Understandable, really…but you knew he wouldn't come out of hiding for anyone else.You sent me—"

"You were supposed to call for backup."

"I *did* call for backup!They were just—"

"There's no point in arguing this, Starling," Pearsall said with a conclusive sigh."Lecter's missing again and no one knows where he is.I'm sorry you had to go through that.No one anticipated him *taking* you to his lair, and certainly not letting you go.We're just lucky he didn't…"

A flash of anger soared behind Starling's eyes."What?Rape me?"

"That or worse.What's that mark on your neck?"

It was as if the phrase deactivated her anger.Almost instinctively, Starling stepped back, face falling as her hand reached to brush the skin at her throat.Instantly triggering a memory.She was two days younger, and in the company of Dr. Lecter once more.Seated at a large dinner table with delicious food at her disposal.

Now she was against the wall, his hand at her throat.His eyes blazed in anger.

("Do you realize how easy it would be for me, Clarice? The slightest pinch, held accurately, and you would never again have reason to worry of your duties, what I might steal from you. What you might *allow* me to steal.")

Allow him to steal.Being robbed never felt so good.

Hand remaining self-consciously at her throat, she shook her head as she forced herself to the present."It's nothing," she whispered; fight audibly gone from her voice."Just a little memento."

"He didn't hurt you?"

Starling's eyes glistened with something more than irritation, though she doubted he caught it."He wouldn't."

Something else was in Pearsall's gaze.A hint of evasion.He wanted to end this conversation.It was beginning to wear on his conscience. "Starling…if I give you my word that we won't send you after him again…will you consider staying?"

"Staying?With the FBI?"

"Yeah."

She sighed, her head reclining back to gaze at the ceiling, hands finding their way into her pockets."I've found despite all my schooling, despite every rational nerve in my body that I am unable to do anything but what I do right here.I told myself I'd quit…" She brought her eyes back to level with his."And against everything that tells me otherwise, I did not waste training for no reason.I'll stay here until it kills me, which it ultimately will."

An understanding nod, surprisingly authentic, was her reply."We won't forget that, Starling.None of us will.And if it means anything…we won't ask you to go after him again."

Shaking her head in immediate disagreement, Starling gave him a knowing look, one that could have offended if not without wisdom."Lies do not become us.You'll say that now out of guilt, but the next time a man is trimmed for meat, you'll have forgotten to feel bad about this…and you'll think of me.I swear to you, Pearsall…when that time comes, I'll make you remember this day.Right now.If you ask differently of me, I'll quit."

"Understood."

Nodding, she turned to leave.This place made her skin crawl, amongst other things."I'm leaving now…I don't know when I'll be back.I plan on taking some time off.If you have a problem with that—"

"I was going to suggest it anyway.You need your time off.Call in whenever…preferably a few days."

"Gotcha."

It wasn't until she was closing his office door that he called after her again."Oh, and Starling…just in case you're wondering…this did make up for that raid on the Verger Estate.That and then some.You have sympathy here.That other mess will be drowned in disinterest once the media gets a hold of this."

Starling made a face."Thanks."It was hard to know how she meant it. 

Then she was gone. 

***


	13. The Letter

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Starling sat in the quiet of her duplex on the edge of her coffee table.Behind her, the fireplace was running, giving subtle though unneeded warmth.She took a minute to wonder why she had a gas log in the first place.From experience, she knew authentic fires were better.However, she hardly had the time or patience to sit around and muster one up.In accordance with modern fast-pace society, she conformed to have one installed that required nothing more than a flick of a light switch.

Tonight, she wished it otherwise.Hearing the roar behind her, staring blankly at her empty glass of Jack Daniels, she sighed.Her mind unwillingly traveled across the globe, to wherever he might be.Still in China?No…if he was, it was far from Beijing.Perhaps waiting the remainder of his travel plans.

She wondered if he thought of her, and immediately knew the answer.

Slowly, as if unaware of her actions, Starling leaned forward and reached her left arm behind her.From her back trouser pocket, she withdrew an envelope, the same envelope she knew she should have destroyed in Beijing.It was curved now in alignment with her body, having spent nearly twenty-four hours safely stored in her back pouch.

As though it would leap out of her hands, Starling studied it curiously, her fingers flipping over the flap.The temptation to open it was almost intolerable, causing her to wonder why she saved it this long.At the time, she supposed she was holding onto some memory.Now, though, it was unhealthy.Her decision was made.She was home.

_'Home is where the heart is.'_

_ _

Goddammit!Not that again…

Drawing in a deep breath, Starling forced herself to her feet, parading to her fireplace before she could stop to consider.As she held her hand back, ready to cast it into the fire, another strain of resistance struck her.For a minute, she was held in suspension, hand quivering with the need of release.Let it go?Sever all ties with Dr. Lecter completely?

_Yes or no, Clarice?_

_ _

With a desperate cry, Starling yanked her hand back as though scorched.Leaving little room for reassessment, eager fingers practically tore the envelope open; nevertheless careful not to crinkle the paper.

Moving to her chair, Starling sank, eyes landing on elegant script before common sense could convince her otherwise.She knew in reading this she was incriminating herself, withholding valuable information on an escaped convicted felon.

Who the hell was she kidding?This was the same man who held her with such comfort the afternoon before.He was hardly the object of her professional search anymore, if he ever was.A race of guilt shuddered up her spine, as well as shame.How could she even think that now?

No time.Eagerly, Starling's tongue flickered over her lower lip as she began to read.

_Welcome home, Special Agent Starling._

_ _

_I do hope I'm not too presumptuous in assuming you're home. It's an educated guess and nothing more.I know you could not have had enough time to both consider and read my words before your heroes arrived.I suppose you could be on the plane, or in the comfort of your hotel room, but my inner intuition never lies.You are home, aren't you?_

_ _

_If you can answer that, it's more progress than you think.At least my efforts were not sacrificed to the inferno of your fireplace; though I don't excuse the possibility they won't still find that as their final resting._

_ _

_Tell me, how is Washington?_

_ _

_Don't be discouraged, Clarice.It was entirely predictable.This is not to say I have no faith in you, or what you told me this afternoon (by the time you read this, it will be yesterday afternoon, if not later).I think you believed it at the time, and perhaps still do.It's frightening, the thought of releasing yourself completely from all you have known.All you were taught._

_ _

_We had a good time, didn't we?_

_ _

_If you can answer that in the affirmative, there is hope for you yet.Perhaps, even, for us as well._

_ _

_I admit trying to predict where you will go and what you will do from here isn't weighing correctly with me.As I write this, I study your sleeping form, peaceful for now.I hesitate to think that I must wake you in a few minutes, only to leave with the chance of losing what I found here with you.Perhaps what happened was for the best, though.You need your time away from me, away from here.Should you decide to join me, I'd prefer to have all of Clarice Starling, not the part disillusioned by the idea of being cornered, provoked, tormented._

_ _

_If you come to me, we'll both have our answer.If not, I suppose it's lost to the void._

_ _

_Hmmm…you're smiling now.What about, I wonder?What do you see in your dreams?Have you found sanctuary from the lambs at last?_

_ _

_I hope so.Likewise, I hope you not to lose that sanctuary, now that you are home._

_ _

_Now to the risky part.I trust you to keep this confidential, should you return to your world of politics and deception.If you're in China now, I'd advise you go home anyway.Tracing your whereabouts from the airport won't be difficult for your friends at the FBI.But you're home now, aren't you?I think so._

_ _

_Pack a sufficient amount of clothing, though not too much, Clarice.I'd prefer to spoil you when you arrive.Just enough to get you through a day or so.Eveningwear is up to you, though I would like to think you'd opt to go without it.To wan suspicion for a few days, phone in that you're indulging in a much-needed retreat, but mislead your friends with a counterfeit destination.I also advise you avoid the Washington airport.Should trouble arise, you'll want to give a difficult trail to follow._

_ _

_I know you have your Mustang, but for reasons of convenience, I think it best you switch vehicles at some point, or park a good distance from the airport lot.The best thing would be to dispose of it completely, but I leave that up to you._

_ _

_There are four flights scheduled from the __Norfolk Airport, approximately forty-five miles from Williamsburg.Far enough from Washington to be overlooked at first, I'm assuming._

_ _

_Even so, they will be looking for your car and not airline reservations, which is again why I stress you dispose of it._

_ _

_From there, you will find a connecting flight to New York City.If you miss one of the four flights, don't discourage, though I do hope you decide to open this in time.Once you've made it this far, Clarice, going back will be difficult.Take the flight out of New York to Frankfurt, Germany. There you will need to rent a car.I have reservations at the Schloss Wolfsbrunnen Castle.Very lovely place.You'll enjoy it.It's approximately two hundred and seventy kilometers from Frankfurt, near the Eichsfeld forest. While there are closer connecting flights, I suggest this as one final step in eluding attention._

_ _

_I have taken the liberty of reserving you a private room for now.It's under the name Hannah Fell.Oh, I know that's a tad obvious, but trust me, no one would assume I use the same alias again.Besides, this is for you, isn't it?I intend to be far from Germany by the time any of your esteemed colleagues catch on._

_ _

_That is, of course, assuming you join me. _

_ _

_I give you time and patience, Clarice.That's all I can offer.If you should decide not to accept this escape, then I extend my best wishes to you and your happiness.I will no longer interfere with your life, though I expect you'll be asked to meddle with mine.Who knows, we might have some fun, yet._

_ _

_My apologies for any trouble or confusion I have caused you these past three days, or ten years, but again, who's counting?_

_ _

_I am now.Your friends do like to crash a good party._

_ _

_With whatever you chose, Clarice, I know you do so with reason.Bearing that in mind, farewell.I can ask for no more, nor expect any less.You know you always have my respect and admiration.And even if I can't be there to peer over your shoulder, be assured I will be watching you, if only from afar._

_ _

_Will it be from afar, Clarice?You decide…_

_ _

_Regards,_

_ _

_Hannibal_

***


	14. Escape

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

With a sigh, Starling sat back.The letter and envelope fell from her grasp, and she chucked slightly, without humor, when the enclosed paperwork and identification badges for Hannah Fell scattered on the floor.Obsessively prepared…did he never forget anything? 

And the envelope looked so thin, too.

Not bothering to retrieve anything, she closed her eyes, possessed and conflicted.What now?Behind her, the fire crackled mockingly, scolding her that instant for withdrawing her hand, for allowing herself such knowledge, despite how appreciated it was.Too deeply involved, too much to turn away.Now presented with unwanted decisions, decisions she thought she had made, perhaps prematurely.

There was still time.She could burn his instructions and try very hard to forget she knew where he was, what he entrusted her with.

That thought was laughable.Though she was in no way as skilled as he at instant memorization, Frankfurt, Germany was not a city title to easily forget.Furthermore, something within her forbade her to forget.She was drawn, completely and wholly drawn.Just as she could not cast the letter into the fire, despite all reasoning and rationality, she would live knowing where he was, where she, even now, wished to be.

Why was she here, anyway?What plausible reasoning had she in returning to the motherland of her problems, of her turmoil?At the time, it seemed logical.Starling wished for a minute she could see herself when she made decisions, if only to forewarn the shadow of her being how her mind would inevitably change.How it always changed.

After all, she was only in his company for three days, and still managed to lose all of herself.Lose…and find.

What still amazed her was that *he* knew.Starling was no fool and discerned she wasn't entirely predictable, but through whatever twist of faith or nature, he knew the way her mind worked, just as he knew she would see the agent in the mirror again.There were some areas she would always manage to surprise him in, and wasn't *that* a liberating thought?But not here, not when it came to her ethical-bent thought process.He knew she wouldn't open the envelope until she was home, until she saw without his influence.

No, even that was inaccurate.She saw everything as he would, the dry shamble of the life she had on a silver platter.Without seeing it, coming to any form of a decision would be premature and in vain.He was right; she *would* have grown to resent him, never knowing the price of her liberation had the potential of endangering them both.

But was it what she *really* wanted?

_All right, Agent Starling, let's weigh your options.What exactly do you have going for you here?_

_ _

Let's see.There was always the Bureau, the land of seemingly endless opportunity. Where she gradually realized no matter how much she screwed up, there was always some department that wanted her, even if it was as lowly as the janitorial staff.If she were ever released, it would be by accordance of her own decision.

There was always Hannibal Lecter to chase.As long as he was free, Starling knew she was guaranteed a job, even if she never found herself reassigned to the case.People felt she was easier to approach than the only other inside expert, a retired drunk who now resided in Florida.

Okay.A life at the Bureau.That medal Dr. Lecter mentioned.Her morals and ethics, already betrayed, perhaps, with her sinful actions while under foreign influence.It was always possible to grasp so much of what was herself and forget the time she spent in China.However, she recognized that while putting it out of her head was simple – forgetting it altogether was a whole separate issue.

Forget the happiest time she could remember, however brief it was?

Was it worth it?Worth keeping all those tedious morals for the sacrifice of something she was assured to give her peace?

Peace… 

Suddenly, that world didn't seem so inapplicable.She had found peace, tranquility in those few hours with him.Even if she never saw him again, Starling knew she would spend her life trying to find a shimmer of the happiness she had there. It was taunting and unavoidable.Something she found herself throwing away.

_Why?_Why should she deny herself what she wanted when the key to such blissful escape was literally at her fingertips?Because of *what* he was, or *who* she tried to be?

Judge him based on headlines?Was that what she reduced herself to?

What about all those things nobody knew?The part of him that was all Hannibal Lecter?Despite the fierceness and the cold brutality, there was kindness and compassion, understanding and sympathy.Yes, he valued destruction and chaos, but he also respected independent views that were uninfluenced by modern society.While he disagreed with many of her consensual insights, he admired her right to have them.And despite that, they really were alike.How many people had he killed without justification in his own judgment system?None, for one reason or another.The same way she refused to kill unless provoked, unless it became essential.

So they had a collusion of values.While hers were flexible, he had none to immediately identify.

Why was this suddenly an issue?

She knew that already.Because when she thought of him, her will to fight the inner voice that steadily grew louder and louder began to break.

_Okay, Starling…ask yourself this question.Do you want to stay here?Be here?Act as their loyal servant for the rest of your life?_

_ _

Starling shook her head, not wanting to answer.

_Well?_

_ _

Of course not!How could she stay here when she belonged on the other side of the globe?When she was screaming for escape but had not the courage to initiate it?A burning pain arose in her chest, and for a searing minute, she was angry.Why her?Why, out of all the agents in the world, all the people to choose from, why was *she* the one stupid enough to…

No!

Damn him!Damn him for taking her! Damn him for making everything clear! Damn him for elaborating sense into her otherwise irreversibly screwed up life!Damn him for caring! Damn him for understanding! Damn him! Damn him! Damn him!

Damn him for making her…

_Don't say it…_

_ _

For making her…

_Don't even think it…_

_ _

For making her fall in love with him.

A strangled cry arose from the back of her throat as Starling jumped to her feet.Hurriedly, she seized the letter and stuffed it back in the envelope, neatly packing her papers together.Without allowing herself time for thought, she raced upstairs and grabbed her suitcase, sitting neatly in preparation, having yet to be unpacked from her return.

In her urgency, she nearly knocked herself over with the clumsy banging of the luggage against her side.A fall down the stairs would do her little good now, and she forced herself to take it down a notch.

Things happened in a fury of motion.Starling seized the phone and made a few quick calls.One to Pearsall's office, stating she was taking a small vacation but refrained from stating where, excusing the ambiguity with a simple: "I just want to get away…completely away.No interruptions."

Ironically, that was the truth.

The second phone call was to the Norfolk Airport to secure all arrangements.As Dr. Lecter indicated, there was indeed a departing flight to New York scheduled for the next day.One of four, as he mentioned.This was the third – the fourth to leave in three days.After that, there was nothing for two weeks.

What a break.

Shutting her luggage into the trunk of her Mustang, wondering briefly why she bothered taking it out, as if she anticipated this random change of heart, Starling referred to the letter for final instruction.What she read discouraged her, though she knew it was essential.Looking to her car, she cocked her head in wonder.Renting a vehicle was too risky; stealing one…she refused to consider that.What else could be done?

Slowly, Starling's eyes landed on Ardelia Mapp's car, paused, then traveled to the license plates.Her eyes widened considerably, and though she seemed to pause in thought, her mind was made in an instant.

There was little time for reconsideration.In two minutes, she was crouched over, tool box at her feet as she pried the plates from either car, making the switches with frightening speed.The rate she performed these unspeakable acts should have startled her, but as a law enforcement – former law enforcement – official, it was merely applying things she had seen occur a million and a half times to herself.Putting her knowledge of the criminal mastermind to work at long last.

Perhaps it would have been disconcerting if she stopped to think about it, if there were any lingering doubts in her mind.However, knowing it was Mapp's car eased her spirit.Had it been a stranger, she might struggle.That damnable sense from right and wrong again.And while it was predictable and by no means untraceable, it still bought her time.

Time was all she needed right now.

The last thing she did before leaving the place she knew as home, the physical location of her so-called residence, was double-check to make sure everything required for a flight out of the country was in order, just in case the identification papers failed her.Once satisfied, Starling dove into her car and pulled away.

Surprisingly, the significance of driving from the life she knew failed to shake her as leaving the place she originally arrived at as a hostage had.The feeling of intense, unbridled relief that washed over her was much appreciated, but she knew there would always be apart of her that wished to return to Beijing, to that house.

Perhaps they would someday.

*They*…someday.

She grinned.

Crossing the Potomac, Starling didn't bother in looking back at the city to which she dedicated so much, and lost even more.Washington would always be with her, inside her, as would a special place in the Bureau.But this wasn't a grieved departure.This was escape.

Escape.What a beautiful word.

***

It wasn't until she was on the plane from New York that Starling allowed herself to relax.At every turn, every glance from a stranger, she was sure she was being followed, pursued, watched.Leaving DC seemed so simplistic, as though everything should suddenly reek of complexity, now that she willingly made a criminal of herself.

When she realized no one would be doubt her innocence unless she acted the part, she understood finally why it was difficult to find fugitives of the law.If they didn't portray a façade of guilt, no one would suspect them, readily anyway.There was always that person who would find someone familiar, but that was over a steady period of time.True illicit masterminds never allowed themselves that close, unless assured of their disguise. Nearly laughing at her assumptions, Starling settled, politely rejecting the beverage offers from the attendants.

The night before was spent in her car.She supposed it was the last time she would see her automobile and decided to make the most of it, however crude.As it was, she could hardly afford to waste money now, even if it was for a Motel 6.Her Mustang now sat in a residential neighborhood comfortably close to the airport.While the walk was strenuous, it was merely a matter of steps.After the running she did, it hardly registered.

By this time, she had the words Dr. Lecter wrote her memorized, verbatim, though that hardly occurred to her as she withdrew the letter again and read.Each time, it left her with a feeling of reassurance, of growing faith.

Of release.

Regret, for what it was, failed to make an appearance.She bid all prior ties a discreet farewell, and doubted lament would be apart of her future.Not when there was so much more to look forward to, to experience, to live.

She wondered if he expected her, though the letter said he knew not to predict.

Back to that part of him she could always surprise.Starling smiled at the thought, knowing the taste would never grow old in her mouth.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Starling leaned into the seat.She took these moments of reflection to ask herself why it took Dr. Lecter's letter to restore confidence in her prior conviction.To make her see what was plainly there, waiting for her.

She had her theories, but the real reasons were effortless to see. Just because she knew what had awaited her in Washington didn't mean she *realized* it.It was important to see, even if it was a small glance, of what her life would be like.These past hours were the longest she had ever endured, all for the lack of meaning, for the denial of what she wanted, all for she thought ill of herself for admitting it.

He was right, of course, that was no surprise.The need for her to see was as important as her acknowledgement of freedom.

She saw.After ten years of accusing the others in Bureau to judge her without looking, she finally knew she had looked without seeing.And now that she saw, the path was clear.There.Before her.Waiting to be claimed.

Hers.

Now all she had to do was wait.After a decade of slow torture, it was the simplest thing anyone could ask.

***


	15. Reunion

Clarice Starling thought: Officious little prick

Perhaps it was the air of a foreign land that made Clarice Starling smile as she stepped off the plane, but something told her otherwise.It wasn't so different from the ambiance of Washington, though she didn't trust her senses well enough to make that divine distinction.Whatever it was, though, caused by the atmosphere, location, or thought of promise, Starling noted it with a defined appreciation.

Though she had never heard the description applied to Frankfurt, Germany, she supposed she was seeing the world through rose-colored glasses.The light here seemed to make everything sensible and within reason.It was a nice step in the affirmative.

Every time she signed her name to signify verification as Hannah Fell, Starling felt an inevitable grin spread across her lips.Though she thought not to behave prematurely, her sense of overbearing liberty was difficult to conceal from reaction.It rivaled with the other climactic emotional periods of her life, the epiphanies and what-have-you that came with being Clarice Starling.However, in knowledge of what this concerned, it was far more relaxed.For the first time in years, she felt free to be herself.

If this were the reward for taking-out-of country trips, she would be crazy to ever go back.

Despite the depth of her relief and gratitude, Starling felt an inkling of fear that she tried desperately not to acknowledge.Having read Dr. Lecter's letter two days before, it was easy to forget other things that could have occurred in the time between Beijing and leaving Washington.Though no news coverage reported it so, Starling knew not to dismiss numerous possibilities concerning his capture – or Heaven forbid – death.She hadn't snapped on the television or bothered a glance through the papers for knowledge of hefty headlines.In the time since departure from Washington and arrival in Frankfurt, something could have come up and she wouldn't know.Not until investigating newspaper racks.

If the plans from his side were those interrupted, Starling knew that though it would be difficult to proceed alone, she had to.His capture or death did not imply the discontinuance of his aspirations for her.Either way, he gave her freedom and full escape, and she would not rebuke that for any reason.

Without true suggestion or implication, it was one of his finer gifts.

But in truth, that was mere paranoia.Starling knew that though she had avoided sources of media, word of the mouth would have alerted her by now, even from a stranger.It was assured in any form, quicker than any broadcast, and beyond predictability.

Given her new location, simple activities such as renting a car became an adventure.Starling's impatience was beginning to soar.Excited nerves made her tremble, the ability to consume anything that resembled food misplaced.It struck her as curious that she should feel this way after all they had gone through together.She didn't fear her decision, or him, in any sense of the word.However, her anxiety ascended slowly, making it difficult to breathe when it occurred to her that this was reality.

The stirrings of excitement in her chest were likewise difficult to ignore.

Though enjoyable, Starling was beyond relieved when her trip from Frankfurt came to an end.When she finally saw her destination, she pulled over in genuine shock, wondering where she took the turn into fantasyland.The scene before her was breathtaking, something literally out of a fairytale.

Standing not overbearingly tall, the castle appeared to merge from the forest that surrounded it, the true epitome of any young girl's desire.Though Starling liked to consider herself far from the stereotypical girl who had delusions of a fictional man in shining armor, she took a minute to consider just how much of a fairytale her life was, without the assistance of dreamlike resorts.This was more or less the icing on the cake, true confirmation she had stepped out of the norm, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

It was undoubtedly the most beautiful place she had ever seen in her life.

Not wasting any further time, Starling wedged back into the seat and pulled the car in gear.As she roared down the twisted pathway, she drank in the sight of nature around her, nourishing her as though she had never seen it before.

For the briefest of minutes, she felt that was accurate.

Seeing the castle up close was even more surreal than a distant gaze.It was as though every photo image she had ever seen of a palace came into tangibility.When the bellboy wobbled out of the front, it took her a minute to register that the car was no longer her responsibility.Heaving her luggage out, she gladly forfeited the keys, not watching as it was driven away.Instructions were given, dealing with the number and when she could retrieve it, but Starling wasn't paying attention.

It took a minute before she realized it was time to go in.

The foyer was majestically beautiful, and she felt an instant inferiority complex.This place, however grand, was not who she was.Could she really expect to slip into the higher fold of Dr. Lecter's life and find the space comfortable and fitting?

If it didn't feel right at first, she knew it would eventually.

Starling extended the handle on her suitcase and rolled it alongside her as she approached the front desk.A smiling face greeted her, nodding his acknowledgement.The staff uniforms were quaint, though otherwise unremarkable.Returning the smile in kind, she reached for her provided identification slips, hoping they were as observant as those she fooled at the airports.

_"__Guten Tag! Wie konnte ich Ihnen helfen?"_

Blinking, Starling smiled her ignorance.German had to be the one language class she opted not to take on her high school curricular.She almost laughed at her attempts to reply, her inward senses wanting to speak French, as it was instantaneous when she heard any foreign idiom. 

The embarrassment she expected to feel when she slipped subconsciously failed to register with the man's kind, understanding chuckle."Umm…_parlez-vous anglais?" _She remembered Germany and France were neighboring countries, and he probably had his share of French tourists.

"Yes, of course," he replied with a smile."What may I do for you?"

"Ummm…reservations for Hannah Fell."

"Ah, yes.We've been expecting you."

Starling handed over her identification, which was accepted with little more than an uninterested glance.Once provided with the keys, and signing her name with the perfected autograph she practiced religiously on the plane, she raised her head once more with a winning smile.

"Thank you.Tell me, do you have a Dr. Fell as a guest?"

The clerk considered."No…I don't believe so…I can double check.Your husband?"

Shaking her head immediately, Starling waved her hand to symbolize it was unimportant.Letting out a slightly anxious breath, she came to the conclusion that he registered himself under a different name.It was wise, considering 'Dr. Fell' was more recognizable than 'Hannah Fell,' at least by the FBI.

"It's not necessary," she excused."Thanks, anyway."

Despite her protests, a staff worker accompanied her to her room, refusing to let her carry her suitcase.Starling wasn't used to being pampered, but dismissed it as simply another milestone on her journey to enlightenment.After all, she doubted very much Dr. Lecter would allow her strain herself as she was accustomed to.

Perhaps he would want to wrestle for the right to that.The idea made her smile. 

After thoroughly investigating the room, Starling concluded no note or indication of his intrusion, or that he was here at all.Sighing, the stirrings of familiar trepidation circulating in her stomach, she decided to change for the evening and head downstairs to the restaurant. 

Having a lack of adequate choices, she made due with the dress purchased for the opera in Beijing earlier that week.As she slipped it over her skin, Starling took a moment to note the irony.Both times she wore this dress, it was with the intention of capturing Hannibal Lecter, though the terms had changed significantly.She tried to see herself at the start of the week, this long week, and again reflected in amazement the difference in the person who awoke in the clutches of Dr. Lecter in Beijing, and who stood here in Germany.They carried the same face, spoke in the same tone, idealized the same views, and hell, even wore the same dress, but they were far from completion.

Starling didn't spend much time dwelling in front of the mirror, more out of habit than fear of what she might see.Her hair was slightly tasseled from dozing during the flight, but the adjustments needed were minor, and she preferred not to obsess on appearance.Otherwise, she noted, everything looked in place.

As she made her way into the hall once more, she registered that her nerves were surprisingly calm.All former anxiety seemingly abandoned her system.

The restaurant was lovely.Starling was accommodated at a corner seat at her instruction and provided a menu.Briefly betraying a lack of interest, she studied the way the candlelight played off each occupied table, making the place seem darker than it was, despite the ignited lights attached at the walls.

Not one familiar face.

As she wasn't too hungry, Starling ordered an appetizer and requested nothing more than water.For a few empty minutes, she coiled her hand in the cloth napkin that rested in her lap, studying it as though gone astray.Unlike before, it was comfortable in her grasp, like it belonged there.Out of everything she had seen so far, it was the only aspect that reassured her of purpose.She remembered how the cloth felt in Beijing, and thought it odd that the same fabric should have such a different texture, pending on physical location.

It was nice to have something to occupy her mind with.

Then, before she could take the time to blink her surprise, it didn't matter anymore.A shadow cast over her table, carrying with it the general aura of a familiar presence.When Starling looked up and found herself caught in his eyes, she forfeited the rush of relief.Strangely, the first sensation she experienced was guilt.Guilt for everything she had done to make this an impossibility. For her radical behavior in the first of her capture, for leaving that damnable message in the bathroom stall in the museum, for doubting anything that told her this was where she was supposed to be.The need to apologize was with her, overbearing, but for the minute, she forgot to breathe, lest it draw him away.

When she thought she found her voice and opened her mouth to speak, Dr. Lecter brought a single finger over his lips in acknowledgement that words were not needed.Not for the moment.They shared a long look, focused obsessively.In his gaze, she reflected her apology as well as the forgiveness he granted even before the events occurred.

It left her with peace.Subtly winking at her, Dr. Lecter took his seat, nodding to the approaching waiter who poured him a complimentary glass of water.The relieved burden of her stress now heaved off her shoulders, Starling found herself incapable of anything but to smile.What she portrayed was nothing out of seductiveness or even suggestion, just a smile to convey her hope and gratitude.Everything words cheated of her.Everything, and then some.

When he smiled back, warmth engulfed her.And she, Clarice Starling, knew she would never need to want for anything as long as she lived.

It was a good feeling.

Words seemed so premature when finally spoken, though she didn't deny the rush of intense excitement that shuddered through her at hearing his voice.Odd.She went a decade trying to forget it before, and now, only a few days later, she soaked it in as a peddler dying of thirst.

"Well, Former Agent Starling," Dr. Lecter said, smiling quaintly to himself."Fancy meeting you here."

"I was about to say the same."The comfort at which she fell into pace was welcome.While she thought her heart might pound furiously, she remained perfectly relaxed.After all, this wasn't anyone to be nervous around.

_No, of course not…he's just a cannibalistic psychopath…perfectly natural._

_ _

Starling didn't bother acknowledging that inward voice, though she was sour to note it might take a while before all her ties drown completely out of her system.

"I assume you read my letter."

"Nah.I closed my eyes and randomly picked it off the globe after twirling it around a few times.I suppose it's fate."

Dr. Lecter smiled and took a sip of his water."I suppose so." When his eyes dropped from hers, she drew in a breath, foreseeing the end of their play."Was it a difficult decision for you to make?"

Sighing, Starling sat back, folding her arms across her abdomen.For a minute, she forgot the nice evening attire she adorned, slipping into old habit effortlessly.Once she realized her posture was far from ladylike, she sat up once again."It was at first," she admitted."You were right…I was home."

At that, he smiled slightly but didn't reply.

"In fact…" she continued, drawing in a shameless breath, "I was five seconds from tossing your letter into my fireplace."

Dr. Lecter's gaze reflected neither alarm nor surprise.Instead, he nodded his understanding."Oh?What made you change your mind?"

"I don't know…"

"Of course you do.You wouldn't be here otherwise."

She released her breath."You did, I guess.I was so ready to put it all behind me and continue with my life…but there was always that letter.I knew I wouldn't forgive myself if I didn't at least look, even if I couldn't stay once I knew."

"Once you knew what?"

"Where you were."

The corner of Dr. Lecter's mouth twitched as he fought off a smile."I'm flattered," he said."Considering you couldn't seem to get far enough away a few instances in our time together."

Starling's eyes darkened."How about the last hours of our time together?"

"Oh, I haven't forgotten those.I was prepared to live on them if I had to."

"So was I."

"Hmm…" Dr. Lecter coyly cocked his head, eyes narrowing at her, though not negatively."Even if you decided not to join me?What would be the point in that, if you don't mind my asking?"

"Just because I considered not coming doesn't mean there was ever a point I didn't want to," she retorted, angry for a fleeting second."I was empty from the minute you left.It took no mirror to tell me that."

"The mirror is in symbolism of your courage and incorruptibility, Clarice.If ever you doubt it…"

"I know, I know…" she released another sigh. "But I don't doubt it.I did for a while, but not now."Starling took a minute to chuckle at herself."Odd, because it seems like I should."

"Because you're here?"

She nodded."Yes."

"I won't stop you from leaving."

"I will."

Dr. Lecter's eyes widened suggestively."Such words of liberation, Clarice.You can understand my skepticism to hear them coming from you."

That nearly set her off course.Starling closed her eyes sharply."Please don't doubt me…" she said, her voice barely audible.

In reply, Dr. Lecter reached across the table sternly and took hold of her right wrist, surprising her, as the last time they touched, it was in tenderness, understanding.Though the hold on her arm did not imply threat, it did take her breath away."I don't doubt you," he said sternly."I never have, nor will I.You must understand something for *me*…I've waited ten years for you to come to such a conclusion.There is danger in acquiring exactly what you want.I find myself not knowing what consequences I might suffer in return."

"If you suffer, I will, too."

Smiling at that, Dr. Lecter delicately shook his head."You've suffered enough, Clarice.I ask you not to interfere with battles I engage with myself."

She scowled."This is mine, too, you know."

"I know.And I won't withhold you from what you're entitled."Dr. Lecter paused, the grip on her wrist straining further.Though her skin was beginning to turn red, Starling felt no alarm, or reason to fear.Instead, she returned his fierce gaze with one of her own, fighting the temptation to bare her teeth.

"Keeping that in mind," he continued after a minute, "I'm going to kiss you, now."Without waiting for a reply, Dr. Lecter pulled her forward and met her lips over the table.They held there for a few seconds, their kiss sweet, despite the rough nature of the conversation preceding it.In the face of everything, it was in victory.No longer was she prisoner, in the presence of this person against her will.Both here because they wanted to be.It was all the reassurance they would need.

Dinner, consequently, was cancelled.

***

Starling stood alone in her room for several minutes, waiting until a soft tapping rasped against her door.She still wore her evening dress, though footwear had been immediately discarded once coming to privacy.Yes, heels did make the dress, but she decided to opt without them whenever possible.There was no reason to bother.They were terribly uncomfortable, and hazardous for one's spine, according to experts.

When she went to open the door, she revealed no surprise to see Dr. Lecter on the other side, though she did smile as he entered."I must admit, you managed me a lovely room," she said, turning to allow him enter.

"Not to disillusion you at my efforts, but I doubt any room acquired here would fail to impress you.I do believe even the janitorial closets fall short of grandiose."Dr. Lecter offered a wan smile as he glanced to her suitcase, notably large.He raised a brow."Did I not indicate in my letter that I wished to spoil you like mad when you arrived?

She smiled, turning to him briefly."You did."

"Your luggage suggests otherwise."

"That's my suitcase from Beijing.As soon as I made up my mind, I just grabbed it and left."

"How long were you home before you made your decision?"

At that, she chuckled."Umm…actually on American soil…about four hours."

"You never did answer me…how is Washington?"

Her eyes narrowed."You really want to know?"

Similarly, Dr. Lecter's pupils sparkled with mischief.Starling didn't know how their conversations turned from matter-of-factly to playful and borderline-intimate without a flicker of consideration.It was a nice feeling."Enlighten me, Agent Starling."

"Are you going to call me that forever?"

Answering a question with a question reminded her vaguely of Ryan Stiles on Whose Line Is It Anyway.She didn't know how long she could maintain this without Clive Anderson ringing her in.

Dr. Lecter feigned disinterest and took a step forward."Oh, I don't know, Clarice."He stopped when they stood a few inches apart."Do you *want* me to?"

"Hell to the no."Her smile broadened.

That provoked a grin from him."How invigorating," he said, nearing to touch his lips to hers.Their kiss was cautious at first, slow and exploratory.But as they stood there in sweet suspension, Starling found something else stir within her.Instantly, she saw the tenderness she encountered in Beijing, the slow approach to things, the need to drink everything in to savor perfection.

She liked the way the change in atmosphere neglected to alter that.Relishing every given moment with him was important to her, having wasted so much time already, and she hoped such small intimacies never to change.

Something told her there was no reason to hope.

***

There was no visible light in the room, which was well, as Starling doubted she could see anyway.Breathing raggedly atop her, Dr. Lecter took his time, brow aligned with sweat nudging hers slightly.Finding no air for response, Starling felt capable of nothing except to nod her agreement.

Brushing a kiss over her forehead, he meticulously rolled onto his back.As she settled peacefully, she allowed herself to wonder if she would ever grow accustomed to sharing so much of herself with this person she had known for so long.In hindsight, moving the relationship into the bedroom was simply the next level, but it was climactic for her.Ten years and barely a word, then this sweeping romance that took her breath away at every turn.

It was a satisfying feeling.

"Clarice," he said a minute later, breathing leveled again, though she could tell some of these sensations were having the same affect on him, even if he would never discuss it.

Fleetingly, Starling didn't know if he was inquiring or stating her name out of reflex.Not knowing how to respond, she allowed herself to hum a reply, toning it to be either answer or agreement.

"Qui bono?" he asked, turning to look at her, hand immediately drawn to her face, outlining her features softly.

"Hmm?"

Latin.'Who benefits?'

"Through all this," he continued, "you don't feel you have lost, do you?"

"Lost what?"

"Your war.Your inward battle."

She smiled reassuringly, though the words she thought to offer intended to sooth, she did enjoy the way he continuously made sure of her comfort, even after everything."Yes…on a part.But it was a fight I didn't want to win.I thought I did…I thought I did for a long time."

"I will give you what I can."It was a statement, one incapable of being answered.So she decided to nod, touched relentlessly in a manner she could not describe.It was odd, having her feelings considered on so many levels by this person who wasn't supposed to care, while friends and family neglected her for years.

Reaching out to touch his lips, even as the caresses at her face continued, she found words, though knew they were unneeded."I know you will."

A time of considerable silence.They smiled at each other.

"If I go to sleep," she ventured a minute later, "will you be here when I awake, or will I have another letter at my disposal?"

"Not unless you have left any further pleas for help in public rest rooms," he teased.

"Oh damn…I knew there was something I was forgetting to tell you."Pulling away, Starling turned to reach for her pillow, but to little avail.

"Oh no, you don't…" Masterfully, Dr. Lecter's arm encircled her waist and pulled her against him.She didn't register she had squealed until the echo died.Presented with his offered arm as a suitable cushion, she sighed with satisfaction and rested against him, enjoying his soft strokes as she battled fatigue, before giving up.

Several days before, Dr. Lecter stated he was avoiding sleep for the chance of coming to an abrupt awakening and not find her beside him.Should she come to a similar stirring only to be in Washington when she opened her eyes?Starling concluded that was foolish, but living a fairytale had its precautions.

The caresses against her were real, as was the comfortable warmth from the being whose body cupped hers.Most importantly, she was real, and really here.What would have happened had someone not handed her a pickaxe to chop down the wall of her misunderstanding instead of allowing her to wheedle at it with a sharpened toothbrush for the rest of her life?She would not find herself here, warm and drifting into the serenity…the peace that promised to remain as long as she did not jeopardize it.

But now was not the time to reflect.Now was the time to sleep.Luxuriously, earned, and uninterrupted.Here in the silence of the lambs, in the affection of her lover's embrace, safe and contented.

Now was the time to leave the mirrors behind and refer to them another day, though she knew not why the need would arise.

FIN


End file.
